In Darkness and Silence
by Draugwen
Summary: When his son Legolas stays in Rivendell just a little too long, King Thranduil moves out to visit him. Only... he does not arrive...
1. Captured

Disclaimer: All Tolkien's , not mine, except for my OCs. Pity, but I can't change it ;) I'm just borrowing them without making profit of it, and I will return them unharmed. I hope. ; p

A/N: This is my first real fanfic ever, so please be patient with me ;) I have started it quite a while ago and am still working on it. I have noticed a few flaws already, but well… Constructive criticism and encouragement would be much appreciated. Hope you enjoy :)

And thanks a lot to my beta Celebwen! hugs You're helping me more than I can say, meldis nîn:)

**In Darkness and Silence**

Chapter 1: Captured

It was cold, terribly cold. That was the first thing he noticed when he woke up. Cold and silent. Unbearably so. Slowly the elf opened his eyes. It made no difference; everything was as dark as it had been before. He couldn't even see his own soft glow. He couldn't see anything. He was blind.

The elf breathed in sharply at the realization – and froze. He couldn't hear himself breathing. He licked his lips but tasted nothing. He breathed in deeply but caught no smell in the air. He could only feel. Feel the throbbing pain in his head, feel the cold stone floor he was lying on, feel the heavy chains around his hands and feet.

What had happened? How had he come here? For that matter, where was here?

He breathed deeply and tried to keep his composure. This couldn't be real…

But it was; his head reminded him painfully of that fact. He was nearly thankful for the pain; it kept him holding onto this world. With every sense an elf lost, he lost something that held him there. And he…

He bit his lip, forcing back the feelings of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him. He hated those feelings. / I am Thranduil Oropherion, king of Mirkwood/ he told himself. / I will not give in that easily. /

He was trapped, trapped in a world of darkness and silence, yet he would not give in to anything that might come, nor would he let go of this world and turn to the halls of Mandos.

Whatever was imminent for him, he would fight.

Carefully he got to his feet. There he stood for a while, swaying, as he seemed to have gotten a nasty knock on the head. When he felt sure enough on his feet, he slowly stepped forward until his hands found stone in front of him. He walked along the wall, one hand always touching it.

The room he was in was small and completely made of stone. It reminded him a great deal of a dungeon. The heavy door he had soon found was locked. Considering the fact that he was in chains he wasn't really surprised about that.

He leaned against the wall, having difficulties keeping his balance. His head was now throbbing fiercely. He carefully touched its back with his hand and winced slightly at the unexpected wave of pain that caused. What he found there felt an awful lot like dry blood. The elf lord could only hope the wound wasn't that bad; he was pretty sure he wouldn't get much help from his captors.

His captors. He had no idea who they were, nor what they wanted. He didn't even know how they had managed to capture him.

He tried to remember. Memories returned only slowly, and with no small amount of pain for his already aching head.

They had been on their way to Rivendell when it had happened.

Flashback

The rising sun coloured the Misty Mountains in a bright red glow. The elves that had camped at their feet were now remounting their horses, continuing their journey.

'We will cross the mountains over the High Pass. If we maintain our pace we will reach Rivendell at nightfall,' Laeglin, one of the warriors accompanying King Thranduil, said.

The Elvenking nodded, smiling. The relationship between the Noldor elves of Rivendell and his people had bettered a lot in the last years, mostly due to the strange yet strong friendship between his son and Estel, the human that Lord Elrond counted as one of his own.

Thranduil chuckled slightly as he thought about the change that friendship had caused in his son. Legolas had barely left Mirkwood for the past two millennia, now he barely returned home. The king was going to see him in Rivendell and ask if he'd return home with him.

Suddenly Laeglin interrupted his thoughts. 'Do you feel that hîr nîn / my Lord ?' he asked, his voice barely audible. Thranduil tensed, concentrating on his surroundings. Laeglin was right. Something was amiss.

'We're being watched,' one of the younger elves stated quietly. The king half-turned and looked at the five warriors behind him. They were tense and ready to fight, though a little fear stood in the eyes of the two youngest, fear they unsuccessfully tried to hide.

'Keep your weapons ready,' Thranduil ordered in a low voice. 'Try to find out where they are and who they are. And be on your guard.' Warily the elves looked around in the trees.

Suddenly Gaerfin, the youngest, spotted a silver twinkle in a tree. Someone was sitting there. And that someone was aiming an arrow at Laeglin.

'Laeglin! Down!' he cried, but it was too late. The elf fell from his mount, an arrow protruding from his chest. 'Laeglin!' Shock mirrored in the eyes of the elves.

But it didn't hold them for long. The next one that fell was the archer in the tree. He dropped limply to the ground, pierced by two elven arrows.

The elves jumped off their horses and told them to run; they were of no use here, and they didn't want to drag their faithful friends into that fight. The animals accepted, though only reluctantly, and fled.

Now a real rain of arrows came down on the small group of elves, followed by many hooded figures that jumped out of the trees.

Someone screamed in pain. Thranduil had no way to figure out who it was. He only knew that the attackers were too many, far too many for them.

/ But why haven't we noticed them earlier/ he thought when suddenly something smashed forcefully down on his head. With nearly ironic clarity his eyes took in the last thing he saw:

Red and green, blood on leaves and grass. Two elves and several of there enemies were lying on the ground; the others were still fighting. Blood covered all of them.

He turned to see one of the hooded figures standing behind him, his cudgel stained with blood. Then darkness claimed him, and he fell.

End of Flashback

TBC...

Please let me know what you think :)


	2. Ill Tidings

A/N: Here I am again! I'll always put the replies to reviews at the end of the chapter. That is, until I run out of chapters, but it will still be a while before that happens ;) A big Thanks to all who reviewed D Chapter 2: Ill tidings 

'Stop pacing.' Legolas literally jumped at the sound of his friend's voice. 'Oh, Strider, I- didn't hear you come in,' he apologized somewhat absent-mindedly. The human smiled.

'Yes, I noticed that. I've been standing here for an eternity watching you walking a trench into the floor of your chambers. Why don't you just sit down and tell me what worries you.'

He led Legolas to his bed and gently pressed him down. Sitting down beside the elf he repeated 'Now tell me. You must be very worried that you don't even notice me, the clumsy, loud, human.'

Legolas chuckled, exactly the response Aragorn had hoped for. The elf relaxed a bit. 'It's my father. He should have arrived here two days ago.'

'Your father wanted to come here? You didn't tell me Legolas!' The elf gave him a lopsided grin. 'Nay, indeed I did not.'

He continued, sobering again. 'My father's usually never late. And if something should have delayed his depart, he would have sent a messenger to us. I fear that something ill has befallen him, Strider,' he finished quietly.

Aragorn gently laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. He understood Legolas' worries. 'Then we should go to seek him,' he stated softly.

'I do not know...' the elf replied hesitantly. 'Maybe it's just nothing. Maybe I'm just overly worried.'

'Maybe you are, yes, but only maybe,' Strider replied seriously. 'I suggest we travel to Mirkwood. Either we will meet your father on the way, or we will find out more in the palace.'

Legolas nodded. The human made sense. His father had told him which route he intended to take, so they wouldn't miss each other on the way.

Strider got up. 'I'll go to-'

The sound of a galloping horse interrupted him. Someone had just arrived at the Last Homely House. Legolas looked up. 'It is only one,' he said.

Thranduil wouldn't come alone. So who was it?

Curious, the two friends walked out into the courtyard, where Lord Elrond already was awaiting the newcomer. When the horse finally turned around a corner and came into sight, Legolas looked at its rider – and his heart stopped.

The elf was more lying than sitting on the horse, holding on for dear life as it came to a halt in the courtyard. His tunic and hands were stained with blood. Legolas recognized him. He was the only silvan elf he knew that had red hair: Gaerfin, one of the youngest warriors in his father's service.

What had happened? And why was he alone? Legolas wasn't sure he wanted to know the answers. He hurried to Elrond's side and helped him to lift the wounded elf off his horse.

Gaerfin was unable to stand, let alone walk, so Legolas carried him to the healing chambers. Elrond quickly ordered Aragorn to get a few items he needed, and followed the prince.

'My… Lord…' the wounded elf tried to speak, but Legolas gently cut him off. 'Hush, don't speak. It is well. Relax,' he tried to soothe him, though the worry nagging at his mind was steadily growing.

He gently laid the red-haired being down on a bed in the healing chambers, and then went to help Aragorn, while Elrond took care of Gaerfin. The human frowned at the look on his friend's face. 'Legolas, what is it? Who is this elf?'

'He's one of the elves that should accompany my father,' the elf replied softly, his worry showing clearly in his voice.

Aragorn understood. He laid a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. Legolas sighed and squeezed the Dúnadan's hand gently. He gave him a thankful smile before returning to the injured elf.

'You can do nothing now,' Aragorn said softly from behind. 'Just sit down and let ada work. He'll be fine, you'll see.' He gave the elf an encouraging smile. Legolas returned it and let himself fall into a nearby chair, so that he would be out of the way.

It was in Lord Elrond's hands now.

'My Lord?' Gaerfin's voice drew Legolas back into the present. For hours it seemed had he been sitting there, watching, worrying and hoping.

'My Lord,' the elf repeated, his voice still filled with pain.

Legolas hurried over to the bed. 'Do you feel better?' he asked softly. Gaerfin nodded.

'The king-' He broke off.

'Look at me, Gaerfin. Tell me, what happened?' The red-haired elf looked up, silver-grey eyes searching the prince's blue ones.

He swallowed hard. 'We… were attacked east of the Misty Mountains. They were so many... Who or what they were I do not know, nor what they wanted. They simply came and-'

He swallowed again and closed his eyes.

'They shot Laeglin. My warning came too late. If only I had seen them sooner…'

He opened his eyes again. Terror stood prevalent in them.

'Then they came out of the trees. They were far too many for us. Two came after me; I couldn't fight them off. One hit me and everything went dark. When I woke again, they were gone.'

His voice faded into a mere whisper. 'As was Thranduil.'

Legolas tensed, but bade him go on.

'I found the others,' Gaerfin continued quietly. 'They are all dead.' He closed his eyes and turned away. 'My horse carried me here, the others I sent back to Mirkwood.

'But I failed your father, Legolas. I failed them all.'

He fell silent. Legolas sighed. 'You did not,' he said softly. Gaerfin gave no response. Unconsciously, Legolas shifted into his native tongue.

'Lasto, Gaerfin. Hain ú-'weriannach. / Listen, Gaerfin. You did not fail them. / You did everything you could.' He laid a gentle hand on Gaerfin's shoulder.

The silvan elf turned and looked at him again. He accepted the comfort of Legolas' words. Yet he was worried. 'Thranduil?' he whispered.

'We will find him.' If only Legolas could really have been that sure.

TBC

Not even cliffies as of yet… ;p

Whitedino: I'm glad you like it! D Thanks, mellon nîn :) Is this soon enough? ;) Well, I

cheated, since I had written it a while ago already, but well ;) I still have a lot of

chapters finished for posting, I just need to get around to it :)

Elfinabottle: There is chap two D I very much hope I can keep you intrigued ;) Thank you :)

Lilandriel: bows D thanks for the very enthusiastic review ;) Your faves list? Wow OO

D I hope I manage to keep you hooked :)

Viggomaniac: Thank you very much :) I'll try to keep the rest as fantastic as the intro ;) Let

me know what you think :)


	3. Depart

A/N: It took me a while this time... school is definitely getting in the way ;) And I just noticed how much the review replies got messed up last time... I hope it works atleasta bit better now and is easier to read. :) That think is stealing parts of smileys and the like... it kills asterisks and equation signs and messes the formatting up totally... It just doesn't let me do it right. bleeh. kicks it

Chapter 3: Depart 

They were coming. The floor trembled slightly from their heavy footsteps. Thranduil stood up. An eternity had he been sitting there, fighting to hold on and endure the darkness. He hadn't been sure he could stand it much longer. But now…now he was going to face his captors, and he would not give them the satisfaction of showing weakness, let alone defeat.

He had no way of knowing how near they were when suddenly two of them grabbed him roughly by the arms and shoulders and dragged him forward. Men. His captors were men.

And he had no idea what they intended to do with him.

He followed without struggling, but nonetheless kept his habitually proud bearing, not intending to let them know the difficulties he had not to stumble with every step. His balance had suffered greatly from the loss of his senses.

He swayed slightly, having to concentrate on every movement, but he was glad he had something else to think about than what awaited him and, even more, what had happened to his companions.

Suddenly the men holding him stopped. They took off the chains around his wrists and shoved him forward. He had to grab the nearest thing in his reach not to fall.

He felt wood beneath his fingers; it seemed to be a table of some sort. When he straightened up again he accidentally brushed over some things lying on it. They were wooden too, but he had no idea what was their purpose. Ignoring the men standing somewhere behind him he slowly ran his fingers over the small pieces of wood.

Letters. They were letters. And he was meant to read them.

So that was how they would to speak to him. He was now sure they knew that he'd lost his senses. And he was also pretty sure that they were to blame for it.

The elf lord felt the small letters with his fingers. It was quite difficult, crude as they were, but finally he got it. He'd have rolled his eyes if he could. They had quite a strange sort of humour.

- welcome to your worst nightmare, elf. –

Somehow he highly doubted that it was meant as a joke, and that thought wasn't very comforting.

He turned around to where he assumed they stood, one hand always holding onto the table.

'What have you done to my companions?' he asked slowly. Speaking was difficult without being able to hear the words.

He felt one of the men walk up beside him, rearrange the small wooden pieces, and then turn away again. Thranduil once again read the message with his hands. He could literally feel the malice of his captors when he breathed in sharply at the first sentence.

- they are all dead. –

All dead… Laeglin, one of the few elves that had ever been close to him, a long-time friend. Gaerfin, the young one, he had been so excited to leave Mirkwood for the first time. Feredîr, Arathôr, Gilvellon, all three faithful warriors he had known for a long time. And now they were all dead. He had seen death before, so many times. But to this, one could never get used.

He continued reading; he didn't want his captors to see what he felt.

- but don't worry; you won't have much time to grieve for them. –

Now anger flared up in the Elvenking, anger against those men that took fun out of killing firstborn; that enjoyed bringing him the message of their death. He forced it back. It was useless, as well as asking them why they were doing this. He knew he would get no response.

Once again, someone came to rearrange the letters, but this time, remained standing beside him, a rather disquieting presence. Thranduil chose to ignore him.

- We would have had lots of fun together if we weren't in such a hurry. But there will be enough time for that later on. –

It was a clear threat. But if they thought they could frighten him, then they were greatly mistaken.

Suddenly the man beside him grabbed his arms and turned them painfully on his back without warning. Thranduil winced slightly but still didn't fight as the man led him on, never releasing the elf's arms enough to lessen the pain.

After a while the ground changed to grass. They seemed to have left whatever building they'd been in. Thranduil assumed that several of the other men followed them, but he could not tell for sure. Regardless of whether they did or not, attempting an escape was useless. Even if he could fight them off – which he was pretty sure he couldn't; he didn't even have a clue how many they were – he had nowhere to turn. Either they would find him again or he would die out there.

The ground changed to stone again. He sensed another being standing right before him, but it didn't feel evil like these men did. The one that held him took the elf's right hand and none-too-gently laid it on the being's soft fur. It nudged Thranduil's shoulder softly in response. It was a horse.

So that was why they had said they had no time. They wanted to take him somewhere else. Where, he could and would not guess.

They took off the chains that still connected his feet but bound his hands tightly before him with a thin rope that cut painfully into his flesh. Next they drew something like a cloak around his arms and shoulders and pulled the hood over his head, so that no one could see his face or his bound hands. Then they shoved him in the direction of the horse, meaning him to mount it.

That would be tricky. Thranduil grabbed the horse's mane with both hands and tried to jump on its back, but somehow got caught with his long cloak and stumbled backwards. He tried to reorientate himself, but before he even got a chance to do so, one of the men hit him in the face. The blow came totally unexpected and sent him off his feet.

So this was the punishment for even the slightest failure. He had the feeling that this was only a foretaste of what was yet to come.

When he didn't get up immediately, someone kicked him hard, sending him rolling against the horse's legs. The horse stood perfectly still but prodded him softly with his hoof, as to remind him to get up before they beat him again.

He got back to his feet with some difficulties. The fact that his hands were bound wasn't exactly helping him. Once again he tried to mount the horse, but this time it worked.

He got no further reaction from his captors. After a while of waiting, his horse began to walk slowly, then fell into a swift trot. He held on to its mane; he had no intention of experiencing the punishment for falling off on the way.

The horse walked as carefully as it could. It seemed to want to make things as easy for the elf as it could. Thranduil could feel it pitied him and wanted to help him. He stroked its fur absent-mindedly.

He wondered what they would do in Rivendell when he did not come. He only hoped his son wouldn't do anything stupid to save him. He would not bear to see him in the hands of these men too.

'But-'

'No buts, Gaerfin,' Elrond interrupted the young elf. 'You won't be going with them, not in your state.' Gaerfin said nothing. Of course he saw the healer's point; he was not well at all yet, but he just didn't want his prince to go out searching for his father alone. And he also wanted to help his king. He still felt guilty about having lost him to their attackers.

Elrond seemed to have read his thoughts. 'You know this is not your fault, young one. Do not chastise yourself for things that no mightier warrior could have kept from happening.'

In that moment Legolas stepped up behind Elrond. 'We're ready,' he said. Gaerfin looked up at him from where he was lying; he hadn't been allowed to get up again yet.

Legolas looked at the elder elf questioningly. He knew Gaerfin had wanted to go with them. Elrond smiled. 'He's worse than my sons.'

Legolas chuckled. 'Is that possible?'

'Hardly,' the elf lord had to admit.

'Hey, I heard that!' Aragorn's response from somewhere outside the room brought a smile even to the injured elf's face.

Legolas sat down on the bed. 'Can you tell me where you were ambushed?' he asked softly. The red-haired elf nodded. He knew he had to accept Lord Elrond's choice. He had to stay. He gave the prince a description of the place, as detailed as he could.

'Hannon cen,' Legolas thanked him. 'We will go now and send a messenger to Mirkwood. You should stay here and recover, my friend.' He smiled and turned away.

'My Lord?' Gaerfin asked softly. Legolas looked back. 'Please… come back safely, Legolas.' The blond elf softly tapped Gaerfin's shoulder. 'I will,' he promised, before walking out to join Aragorn.

The human was already waiting with the horses. Legolas nimbly jumped on his mount's back and waited for Aragorn to get up as well. As soon as his friend was mounted, Legolas urged his horse forward, and it fell into a quick gallop. He rode out of the courtyard and up the scarped path out of Imladris, followed by his human friend, obsessed by only one thought: To find his father as soon as possible.

'Whatever they do to you father,' he muttered, 'I swear they will pay for it!'

TBC

(…sooner this time I hope ;p)

Elfinabottle: >I just hope the rescue party is BIG ---->>Not as of yet ;p >It seemed like Thranduil's party was kind of small, considering he's the king. ---->>Hmmm…ponders Dammit; I knew there was something ;p Maybe I just wanted to avoid too many dead elves ;) >Looking forward to more! ---->>Here's more :D I'll try to update sooner this time :) Thanks so much for the review :D

Lilandriel: >again, wonderfully written. U have a great style. ---->>grins too Thankee :D Notice English is not my first language? ;) >maybe no cliffie, but certainly suspense! ---->>I certainly hope so ;p Would be boring otherwise, wouldn't it? ;) >very nicely done. ---->>Thankee :D >Next chapter, please! is lacking in patience! ---->>Sorry it took me so long blushes will try to be faster next time :)


	4. Tracks and Dreams

A/N: Quicker this time ;p Won't be there the weekend, so I better post now :)Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I'll try to heed your advice ;) I see it's a little short, but I hope you don't mind too much ;) Review replies, as usual, at the end of the chapter :)

I hate what this thing makes of my nice layout. Hate it. Hate it. Hate it. Oh well...

Chapter 4: Tracks and Dreams 

/There stood Thranduil, his golden hair flowing in the wind, his eyes staring at nothing. Legolas was taken aback by the fear in his father's face. 'Ada?' he asked softly. Thranduil didn't react, nor did the fear in his features fade. 'Ada! It's me, Legolas!' Still no reaction.

'He cannot hear you,' a cruel voice whispered behind him. 'He cannot see you. He'll never know you're there.' Legolas turned immediately, but there was no one.

Slowly, he turned back and began to walk towards the other elf. It cut his heart to see his father like this. 'Ada….' It was a mere whisper on his lips.

Thranduil seemed to notice someone was approaching him. He backed away, holding his bound hands up in a defensive position.

Legolas froze. Thranduil could not see the precipice he was approaching. He didn't even stop when Legolas did, walking backwards further and further…

He could do nothing. He could only watch as Thranduil took another step back. His heart stopped as his father fell, screaming. 'Ada! No!'/

'Legolas?' Aragorn shook his friend slightly. 'Legolas, wake up!' Legolas' eyes snapped back into focus. 'What-' He realized that he was shivering.

'You've had a nightmare, Legolas. I heard you cry out. What was it?' Aragorn asked worriedly. Slowly, the elf sat up and told his friend about the dream.

'I know it was only a dream, Estel,' he said quietly when he had finished. 'But it all felt so terribly real…' Aragorn had a feeling there could be more behind it, but it was a mere suspicion, and he didn't want to alarm his friend unnecessarily, so he didn't speak about it.

Instead, he only nodded in understanding. 'We should go on, Legolas,' he said, patting the elf on the shoulder. 'We have to find your father as soon as possible.'

They gathered their things and remounted their horses. It was two days now that they had found the tracks of other horses near the battlefield, which obviously belonged to the ones they were seeking. The tracks were plain to see and easy to follow, but they were some days old, and Aragorn feared they weren't catching up at all. But if their journey would continue as easy as it was at the moment, they still had a chance.

Legolas rode silently behind his friend, completely lost in his dark thoughts. Aragorn felt he had to cheer him up a bit. He slowed his horse down until he was riding beside the elf.

'Tell me, Legolas,' he said. 'Why haven't you told me your father would come?' A light smile spread across his friend's face.

'Let's say it was – meant as a surprise.'

'Were my brothers involved?' When Legolas nodded he sighed. 'I bet it was meant as a nasty surprise then. Did you intend to play a prank on me, Legolas?' The elf gave him his best innocent look.

'We? We would never-'

'Legolas…'

'Alright, we did. Or, Elladan and Elrohir did. They knew my father wanted to have some political meeting with yours and some others, and they wanted you to burst into it, as I think, in a not so good-looking state. Something like muddy and angry, I suspect. I don't know the details.' Legolas was grinning widely now and Aragorn grinned back, relieved that he had once again managed to cheer his friend up. So they rode on, joking about how Aragorn would seek revenge on his brothers.

--------------------------

Aragorn sighed as he felt the first heavy raindrops coming down on him. That was really what they needed now. The rain would not make it easier for him to read the tracks they were following. It could even wash them away completely in the worst case.

But regardless, he couldn't read them from horseback anymore. He slid off his mount's back as did Legolas behind him, and they continued their journey on foot.

What had started as only a bit of rain soon had turned into a real downpour. Aragorn cursed silently while he drew the hood of his cloak over his head and did his best to find what the rain had left of their quarry's tracks. This couldn't get much worse, could it?

--------------------------

It could. Aragorn stopped dead as an arrow embedded itself in a tree right before his face. He cursed himself once more for being so careless. Lost in their thoughts, they both hadn't noticed the bunch of orcs approaching.

The horses shied and fled as the orcs burst out from between the trees. The two friends had no choice but fight. Aragorn drew his sword while Legolas fired arrow after arrow, each one hitting its target true. But there were more and more orcs coming and the two friends soon were greatly outnumbered. Aragorn's sword sang as he beheaded another orc while Legolas, having spent all of his arrows, discarded his bow to fight with his knives, yet with the same lethal speed he had shown in shooting.

But it soon was clear that they stood no chance. 'Legolas! Behind!' The elf heard his friend's call just soon enough to dodge the blow aimed at his throat and behead the orc instead. He cast a glance at Aragorn and could see his friend was slowly tiring; they both couldn't fight on with that speed forever. If nothing close to miraculous happened now they wouldn't make it out of this one alive.

But suddenly they heard the whistling of arrows and the orcs fell, one by one. It wasn't long before they were the only ones still standing on their feet.

They turned to see three riders coming towards them, their arrows readied. They were hooded, so that the two friends couldn't make out whom they were facing.

'Well, well,' one of them said. ' If that isn't the elf prince we were seeking, with his filthy human friend.'

TBC

The Lady of Light: Chapter 1: I am impressed--at last someone with a caring, lyrical style ---- That's about the biggest compliment I ever got :D Thank you:) And chapter names! Bless you! ---- lol! I take it that they are rather rare? ;p My only comment would be to remove the words "Flashback" and "End Flashback" from your text for they are unnecessary ---- I'll think of it next time :) Chapter tree: I didn't know horses' had fur... I mean I know they have a soft coat but I never have heard "fur" applied to it. "Hair" for the mane and tail... but never fur. ---- I don't guarantee for that. I think you're right… Learned something again ;) Your elvish is good except that "le" is "you" not "cen." Unless it was another word other than "you" that you wrote. ---- Nope, it wasn't… correction of your correction ;p 'le' (or 'len', both are possible) is either used as the respectful address or if you're talking to many persons. 'cen' is the more familiar form. (both are dative) Gaerfin is rather young; I might say barely grown up, so I think Legolas could have used the familiar form, also to put him at ease a little. hugs her elvish books ;) Anyway, thanks veeeery much for the nice and really helpful review; it certainly will help me polish up my writing :)

Lilandriel: Weeee… you're my most faithful reviewer up to now ;) Thankee :D english isn't your 1st language? seriously? i've known people born here not nearly as fluent as you! amazed ---- O-O I'm not really that good, am I? Lol Well, I know I'm in my seventh year of learning English now, but well ;) i know i'm repeating myself, but this chapter too is very well written, and nicely laid out. ---- I'll also repeat myself then…. Thanks a lot:) where u've jumped from Thranduil to Imladris, there's no clear break. maybe just put a few more lines between, to show that u've vhanged scene? ---- grumbles Did kill my asterisks again? I can't even look at it to see right now 'cuz it also seems to have taken me out of the search thingy… pfff. I'll try a different approach next time ;) Ahh, just found something… well, it did kill them. I hate it. poor Thranduil! what are u going to do to the poor elf? nothing to drastic, i hope! ---- uh… no promises there…;p I've already written up to chap seventeen, and I'm not going to change it…. So tell me if you think it drastic ;p Thanks for the review once again, and I hope I can keep your attention ;)


	5. Pain and Hope

A/N: Later again this time... I hate school. Ai. I just reread that thing and thought 'that sould have been muuuch better' ;p I _do_ think my ideas of good writing have changed a little since I started that...Tried some changes in formatting again, though only a little. Pfff.

Chapter 5: Pain and Hope

Aragorn took a deep breath and looked up at the rider that had spoken.

'Never. Again. Dare. Frighten me like that, Elrohir!' His brother laughed light-heartedly as they put away their weapons. 'You should have seen your faces!'he said.

'Very funny,' Legolasgave backsarcastically. 'What are you doing here anyway? And who is with you?' The three riders flipped their hoods back, two of them revealing the identical faces of Aragorn's brothers, the third one, slightly unruly red hair around a young face.

Legolas sighed. 'Shouldn't you still be in bed and recovering?'

Gaerfin smiled somewhat ruefully. 'In fact, I should, yes.'

'But when he found out that we would follow you, because we – rightly – guessed that you would get yourself into trouble again, there was no way of keeping him in the Healing Rooms,' Elladan said, grinning.

'Now why does that sound familiar?' Legolas teased with a glance at Aragorn. He dodged a light blow aimed at his head. 'So you will come with us?'

'Yes, we will.' Elladan was still grinning. 'And don't even think of discussing it. By the way, we've brought someone with us.' He pointed at the two horses behind him. Aragorn and Legolas hadn't noticed them before.

'We met them somewhere on our way,' Elrohir explained. 'I bet you have missed them. Come, get up, we don't have much time.'

Legolas and Aragorn obeyed, and the five riders departed swiftly. They really couldn't afford to linger.

* * *

Finally, they came to a halt. Thranduil nearly sighed in relief. Though the horse had done its best to help him, it had often been difficult for him to keep his balance. 

Someone came and pulled his arm to signal him to get down. Slowly and carefully, he slid off the animal's back. 'Hannon cen, mellon nîn,' he said softly, before some of the men came and dragged him away. They made him sit down somewhere and stayed to guard him. /Why/ he wondered. He wasn't exactly in the state for an escape attempt, was he?

Told from the warmth he suddenly felt in his face, the men had managed to light a fire, even though the wood was wet from a full day of rain. Then he felt one of the men move before him, but couldn't find out what he was doing. The question was soon answered as the man cut through his bonds and laid his hand on the wooden letters he had arranged on the ground.

- Rule one: Always obey. –

Well, he had already guessed as such.

- You will serve us. –

Now who did they think they were? 'No,' he simply stated.

The next five letters were quickly arranged.

- What? –

'You understood me very well. I said: "no,"' he repeated. He had no idea why he was doing this. He knew resistance was useless. But he had his pride and he was still Thranduil, king of Mirkwood, and known for his stubbornness.

One of the men backhanded him. What he did now was more a reflex than an intended action: he returned the blow, so hard that he sent the man sprawling. Now two of them grabbed him and thrust him to the ground. He winced at the sudden pain he felt when he fell too near to the fire. When he tried to move out of the heat, the men grabbed him by the cloak and held him in place. He tried to get away, but to no avail.

He hissed in pain and gritted his teeth not to cry out as they moved him even closer to the fire and it began to burn his back. There they held him with an iron grip. No matter how much he fought, with three or four of them holding him down, he stood no chance.

Finally they pulled him away from the fire again. They hauled him to his feet and shoved him forward, so that he once again found himself lying on the ground.

One of the men kicked him and the others seemed to like the idea. Soon they were standing around him, kicking him, beating him with fists and branches and everything they could get. He could do nothing but lie there, curled in on himself, trying to protect at least his head from the blows, and biting his lip to keep from screaming.

It seemed to go on forever. Either the men found out how to make it most painful for him with the time, or the pain simply added up; he wasn't sure about it. He just lay still and waited for it to come to an end.

Then it was over. He remained unmoving, panting and trembling slightly. After a while someone came and roughly directed his hand to some wooden letters lying before him.

/ That again/ he thought.

- You will learn to obey, Elf. Be sure of it. –

He was indeed sure they would try to teach him. But he was far too headstrong to give in already.

/ We will see, humans. /

* * *

It was night now; the wind had grown chilly, cooling down his aching body. By now, his head had begun to hurt badly again, making him feel dizzy and weak. He didn't like these feelings at all. 

The men had left him alone for the rest of the day. He was now sitting with his shoulder leaned against a tree; he didn't dare letting his burnt and bruised back touch anything. The little weight of his clothing alone was painful enough.

He felt lost, and he didn't like that feeling either. He couldn't take comfort out of the starlight, nor out of the soothing whispers of the trees. The sweet smell and taste of the forest air was lost to him. He had nothing but the pain these men had left him in.

He tensed when he felt someone approach him from behind. But when he felt said someone gently nudge his shoulder he sighed in relief. It was the horse.

With surprise he noticed that it slowly and carefully laid itself down behind him. He turned. 'Mae govannen, mellon,' he whispered. The horse tugged his sleeve and pulled him closer, directing him like a foal. Gently it tried to make him lie down.

Thranduil smiled when he understood its message. / Lie down and rest as long as you can/ it told him. / I will watch over you. /

'Hannon cen, mellon-nîn,' he said softly as he lay down close to the horse, gently caressing its soft coat. He silently thanked the Valar for this unexpected friend. He didn't know how long his will to fight and survive would hold, but now he had found a light in his darkness to strengthen him. 'Amdir,' he whispered to the horse. 'I will call you Amdir for this is what you give me: Hope.'

Amdir nudged him gently. He seemed to like the name.

Now, in spite of his pain, soothed by the comfort and warmth his new friend gave him, Thranduil eventually fell into a light sleep.

TBC

Viggomaniac: - Formatting is better this time. ---- Goodie :) Took me a while to figure out how to get past that delete-helpful-symbols-system of this site ;) Though the reviews still are kinda hard to dig through I guess. - I think it helps to have your paragraphs a bit longer as they are in this particular chapter. ---- Might be right there… I'll work on that ;) (should go on writing anyways… I have some chaps finished, but sooner or later they'll run out ;p) -I don't know how long you've been a member ---- Two months? At most lol - but there are some amazing authors whose work you would probably love ---- I'll certainly look into that :) (once my oral exams are over… bleeh) - I don't know if I should do that or not but anyways ---- _I_ don't mind ;p - Because you have some potential ---- What a nice thing to say :D - and if you look at good authors it helps you see what they do to make their works outstanding ---- I'll try to learn as much as I can that way :D -Must stop rambling now. ---- Go on rambling all you want ;)

The Lady of Light: -What types of elvish books do you have? ---- I very much guess you won't know them 'cause they're German, written by a certain Helmut W. Pesch ;) Don't really know what they're called. But they include grammar, vocabulary, pronunciation, various sorts of elvish letters, and one even has some exercises you can do to practice it. I love them :D -(I'm assuming you're using Sindarin because at this point Quenya's outdated). ---- Yeps. Besides, if the Mirkwood elves talk amongst each other they very certainly wouldn't use it. They're not all that fond of Quenya. In Rivendell you might happen across it I think, but mostly on formal occasions ;) - Apparently from my consultation of it, you add suffixes to the ends of verbs to indicate what pronoun it is. ---- Yes and no. In Sindarin, you add suffixes only for the nominative pronouns (to indicate who is doing something). So, if you say 'hannon le' you say 'I thank you' and the '-on' is the added suffix for 'I' as a substitute for a separate nominative pronoun, and the accusative pronoun 'le' for 'you' has to stand separate. - For example, "-n" is added to indicate "I."; "-(l)met" for "we"; "-lye" for "thou" ---- This is Quenya, not Sindarin. You see it mostly in the suffix '-lye'. In Quenya, 'y' is used only as a consonant (as it is in 'lye', otherwise you couldn't pronounce it very well); in Sindarin, it is used as a vowel. - Letme know, please, I'm fascinated and would like to know if this is perhaps wrong. ---- I think we should start a little language talk beside the reviews ;) -hugs books-

Lilandriel: - please don't push poor Thrandy off a cliff for real! ---- hmmmm… gotta think about that ;p - i love the playful friendship u show between Legolas and Estel. it's sweet and fun without being sappy:) nice touch ---- Thankee :D - and orcs! it's never complete unless those 2 run into a pack of orcs hell bent on killing them! chuckles ---- I actually feared it might be somewhat of a cliché… but then, there are lotsa orcs in Middle-Earth ;p - and here's a turn-up. we finally get to meet the baddies. growls ---- No... in fact you don't ;p - i think u're getting better and better at this as u go along :) ---- And here I was thinking I was getting worse with the time… well let's see what you say later ;) - 17 chapters? wicked! that'll keep me very happy for the next month or 2! ---- There'll be more…. I just have to write them ;) - aw, ok- u can be drastic if u like ---- Goodie ;p - thanks x! ---- x? And I am the one to thank here :D Hope you keep enjoying it :)


	6. The Questioning

A/N/very red face/ Really, really sorry this is so late, people… But I had my very final exams (Abitur, if anyone knows) and am now completely done with school/dances/ Which means I can post more regularly I think :) It's probably gonna be university now… little better ;-p

Oh, and did I mention I hate the formatting on this site? I've been gone for so long I forgot all the little tricks ;) I don't get it any better I'm afraid...Well, I'll stop rambling, on to the next chappie… Thanks to all my reviewers :)

Chapter 6: The Questioning

Something was different, he noticed when he woke up, though he could not immediately tell what. He shook his head and blinked. His senses had returned!

Not entirely though; they were still slightly numb, but they were back. He lifted his head to look around, but immediately regretted it. Moving was not a good idea. Every part of his body seemed to hurt even worse than it had the day before, and the dizzy feeling caused by his head wound had increased.

'Get up, Elf!' he heard a harsh voice say. He looked up. Standing there was a tall, heavy-built man with a weathered face. He was smirking at him. 'Rise and shine,' he said.

Slowly Thranduil sat up. The movement woke Amdir, who was still lying beside him. He stroked the horse shortly. 'Sleep on, my friend,' he whispered before getting up. He had to lean against the tree for support, or his legs would have given way beneath him.

There were about fifteen men sitting near the fire, and some others were standing around the camp as guards. All horses, except Amdir, for whatever reason, were bound to some trees that stood nearby.

'Hey! Come here!' the man that had woken him, most probably the leader, shouted. He was now sitting by the fire, too.

Thranduil cast a quick glance at the armed guards. It was of no use trying anything foolish, so he reluctantly walked over to the men. 'Hurry up!' they shouted. 'We don't have all day, you know!' He was pretty sure they had, besides, walking faster was not an option yet, so he simply ignored them.

'Sit down.' That was an order, not an offer. The Elvenking shrugged inwardly and obeyed.

The man was still smirking. 'Now, Elf, we've got some questions. Do you know who we are?'

Thranduil thought about it. There were not many choices, were there? He doubted that they knew who he was, and who would capture elves for no reason except…

'Slavers,' he said.

'Bright one,' the man grinned nastily. 'But I'll tell you a bit more: we're the damn best slavers in this world!'

Thranduil frowned at the arrogance of these men, but could not hold back a question.

'But why me?' he asked. 'Why have you killed all the others?'

'Is that not clear? You were the leader. And as we are in business for quite some time now, we can afford to choose the best.'

'But why have you killed them?' Thranduil asked again. 'Why didn't you-'

Another one of the men cut him off. 'Now, we too want to have some fun, don't we, guys?' The men laughed. Thranduil gritted his teeth to hold back from showing them how much fun he thought this was. Had they not taken his sword, at least three of them already would have lost their heads.

'But now, Elf, I think it's us who are in the position of doing the questioning. So tell us, who are you?'

Thranduil stifled a laugh. Did they really think he would simply give away his identity? 'Why should you want to know?' he asked back. 'And why should I tell you?'

The men were still smirking. 'Why we want to know? Oh, come on, I thought you were so bright. Isn't it easy? The higher you stand, the more we get for you. Perhaps we can even get a deal with the One himself. It wouldn't be the first time.'

It was clear whom he was speaking of, and that made just another reason for the king to hide who he was. He was not too keen on a meeting with the Dark Lord.

'And why you should tell…' the man continued maliciously, 'well, that's easy too.' He held up a small bottle, which contained a clear liquid. 'Do you know what this is, Elf?'

Thranduil shook his head. How should he? 'Well I tell you.' The man held the bottle under the Elvenking's nose. The fair being immediately drew back when it felt the effect of sniffing the liquid. It seemed to have no smell, quite the contrary; it seemed to erase all others, too. Thranduil's vision started to cloud and his hearing suddenly was dulled. He turned his head away from the drug.

'We call it Tylcarnë,' the man said. 'Lucky for us, it only works on elves.' He grinned. 'Inhale this, and your senses are dulled enough that you wouldn't notice an army approaching. Drink it, and your senses are totally gone for a while. Drink too much of it, and they'll never return.'

So that was how they had managed to catch them totally off guard! And that way they also had made him lose his senses.

'The formula is a family heritage,' the man continued. 'It's working really well, don't you think? I'd say you better tell us your name, Elf. There's enough of the stuff in that bottle to kill your senses forever.'

'I doubt you would do that,' Thranduil said coolly. 'I wouldn't be of any use for you then.'

'Maybe not… but think of it,' the man replied with an equally cold voice. 'We can at least make you lose your senses for years. You wouldn't like that now, would you? And we can do it again and again.'

This time the elf gave no answer. It was just too true; he dreaded every small moment he had to spend again under the influence of the Tylcarnë. It had just been terrible. How could he ever stand it a second time?

But he also could not afford telling them who he was; it wouldn't improve things in any way, he knew that. It would most probably bring him into the hands of Sauron himself. He shuddered inwardly at the thought. That couldn't really be called an improvement.

'Now, Elf, will you speak?' Thranduil remained silent.

'You'd better do it!' The man lifted the bottle threateningly. The Elvenking still didn't speak.

'So you won't tell us?' the man finally asked with barely contained anger. 'Fine. Hold him,' he ordered the others. Four or five of them immediately grabbed the elf and held him in place, while the leader held the bottle to his mouth, forcing him to gulp down the burning liquid. The king kept struggling, spilling half of the Tylcarnë, but with every sip he was forced to take, his senses became more and more dulled.

Then they were gone. There was nothing left. Thranduil stopped struggling and hung his head in defeat.

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From then on, things were steadily getting worse. The men began to beat him repeatedly during the journey, when he refused to call them his masters, when he made mistakes, or simply when they felt like it. They ordered him to do things he could hardly accomplish in his state, like lighting a fire or seeing to the horses, and each time he failed, they would punish him. And never, during the whole time did his senses return once, nor did anyone look after his injuries, though they'd needed it badly.

He could do nothing but hold on. His only hope was Amdir; the horse came to him every night to comfort him.

Sometimes during the day, when he was being left alone for some time, he would return to the one thought that always helped him hold on.

/ Legolas… /

He hoped at least his son was safe. He knew that Legolas would surely be out seeking him, but he half-wished he wouldn't find him. Too easy would it be for these men to catch him too.

/ Please, ion-nîn… do not risk too much. Valar… let my son be safe. /

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TBC…

/glares at story/ I should be able to do better. Anyways…

Lilandriel+oh! u wicked writer! u really had me going at the end of the last chapter! it never even occurred to me that it could be the twins! ---- I did hope not to make it all too obvious ;) +Fantastic C4 cliffie, i must say! ---- Thankee :) C4+oh gawd :( poor Thranduil. he is stubborn, isn't he! ---- Not really a question, was that? ;-p +bless that horse! can i keep it? or better yet, can Thrandy? he may need to make a quick exit! ---- He may probably not be able to make a quick exit... I'll think about it though ;)

Elfinabottle+don't mean to keep harping on numbers, but a rescue party of 5 is much better than a rescue party of 2. He's the King of Mirkwood! Half of Imladris should be looking for him. ---- You'll find that little flaw later on too I'm afraid blushes I see you're right… I might start reasoning now… like that it might not be good to show all the world that the King of Mirkwood's gone missing (Sauron: "Oh, nice!")… or that some people probably might not have the patience to wait for the setting up of a bigger group (but then, I didn't mention one being planned ;-p)… but I wouldn't want to stand in court with that reasoning ;-p You're right; there should have been more… +Valar know Legolas and Aragorn DO need someone to keep them out of trouble. ---- You mean someone to hold back the fanfic writers ;-p

Laire: You found it I see? Nicey :) I'll give you a nice and long reply to your review on list once I post the next chappie there (gotta write it first ;-p)


	7. Catching up

A/N: No, I have not died… I have finished school and started at university, which means pretty much the same… I am still at this, though it's been so long I hardly remember little quirks... And I don't like this story very much anymore either… but I hope to get at least a passable ending to it since I'm still working on it ;-) Sorry if this is a little messed up, but it's late and I need sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep... Gah, I hate the distance makes at every paragraph... it makes things so... eww to read.

Chapter 7: Catching up p

Finally, after three days, they found something. There was a small stone building, but it seemed completely deserted.

'We should have a closer look at it,' Elladan said. 'Perhaps we'll find something.'

'Careful!' Aragorn warned. 'We don't know whether there's really no one there.' 'But we won't find out if we don't look,' Elladan responded firmly and slid off the back of his horse.

'I'll come with you,' Legolas said. 'The others better wait here, in case anything is wrong.'

The two moved closer to the house. It really was empty, but also, as they soon found out, locked. Elladan peered in through the window, while Legolas walked around to see if he'd find something. The stable that belonged to the house was the only other building there. They were open, so Legolas stepped in and looked around.

Soon Elladan joined him. 'Have you seen something?' Legolas asked him. The Noldo shook his head. 'The house has more than one room, but only one window, and in the only room I could see there was nothing interesting. Only a wooden table and some chairs.'

Legolas cursed silently. 'Anyone could dwell here,' he said. 'We have to find a hint of some sort.' Elladan nodded. After the rain two days ago, they had lost the tracks and could do nothing but keep up the general direction and hope they'd find them again. As they had not, they could only hope they would find a hint in this house.

'But I found tracks of many horses leading south from here,' Legolas suddenly said. 'And they're not very old. If it's them, we're catching up.' And if not… He didn't want to finish the thought. If not they would have lost them.

'We have to find something,' he said, and began to search the stable for any sign who could have been there. Suddenly he heard Elladan's excited voice behind him. 'Hey, Legolas! I found something!' Legolas quickly went over to him.

'Have a look at this,' Elladan said and showed him a small elven brooch. Legolas took in a sharp breath. He knew the brooch. He wore the same; it showed the emblem of the royal house of Mirkwood.

'It's my father's,' he said. 'He has been here.'

'That means we haven't lost them,' Elladan said. 'Come, Legolas, we have to tell the others!'

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They had now been following the tracks leading south from the house for many days. Travelling swift and not resting very often, they were indeed soon advancing on their quarry.

'We're catching up,' Aragorn stated when they set camp. 'If we keep our pace, we'll reach them tomorrow.'

He looked at Legolas. The elf didn't seem to have registered that he was speaking at all. 'Legolas?' When his friend did not react, Aragorn gently squeezed his shoulder. 'Legolas.'

When Legolas looked up at the human, Elrohir silently signalled to his brother and Gaerfin to retreat and give the two some privacy.

'Legolas, what is wrong?' Aragorn asked. 'You hardly sleep anymore my friend, and you talk to no one. It's not only the worry because your father is captured. There's more behind it. Can you tell me, mellon-nîn?' he asked softly as he sat down beside his friend.

After a while of silence, Legolas spoke. 'It is the dream. It returns, every night. But why, Estel? Can you tell me?' He looked up at the ranger. Aragorn could see what he feared. 'You think it might be some sort of prescience,' he stated.

Legolas nodded. 'But I'm not gifted with foresight, Estel.' 'Yet it might be,' the human replied. 'Foresight sometimes also comes to those who are not gifted with it, especially concerning those close to them.'

'But that would mean…' Legolas didn't finish the sentence, hoping his friend would understand. It would mean his father was going to die.

Aragorn did understand. So this was what his chosen brother feared; that his dream would turn true. But Aragorn knew that it didn't have to happen like that. It was something Elrond had said to him a while ago, that he now told his friend.

'The future is never certain, mellon-nîn. What the foresight gives you is a mere possibility, something that can happen. But it doesn't have to. It can be changed. You can change it.'

He searched Legolas eyes. 'We will save you father, Legolas,' he continued softly.

'I promise.'

TBC…

Since this is quite short, I'll try to post the next thing soon… And I mean the soon I meant when I started out with this...

Fanatic+Hmm, good story. I wanna read further, but there isn't anything else there... ---- Uh…. Veeeery very sorry to leave the thingy for so long…RL has started being a nuisance about half a year ago and hasn't stopped yet… +Anyways, wonderful portrayel of Legolas, Aragorn, the Twins, and Thranduil, and I like your OC a lot! ---- Glad you like it :-) I'm gonna have another OC in soon, hope you like him as well ;-) I've never been very good at character portrayal, so thanks :-) you give me a little hope about my skills on that matter ;-) +And this is a pretty darn novel idea, too! ---- Is it? O.o thought so too when I wrote it, maybe people just stole from me ;-p +Please update when you get the chance, and you're doing wonderful! Good luck! ---- Well I did get the chance… if you're still looking at this'''' Luck I'm gonna need, thanks ;-) And thanks a lot for your nicey review :D

Calenlass Greenleaf+Please update when you get the chance, and you're doing wonderful! Good luck! ---- Yeah, I thought our dear king had to feel a little neglected by now ;-) +and very good at that. ---- Thank you! beams +I want to read more. This is good. ---- Meh, sorry it took me so long… I'm trying to be faster again… Thankies for the review -bounces happily- :D


	8. To Lose

A/N: Now wasn't that fast… ;-) It's not too long either though, sorry for that… next one is longer ;-) I really have to do something about the paragraphs...

Chapter 8: To Lose

Gilfaron stood at the window, his eyes closed, and listened. The sound of galloping horses could be heard from far away.

He sighed. He had had a comparatively peaceful time with only two of them around.

The elf turned to sit in a corner of the room, ignoring the rattling of the chains around his ankles. He was used to it.

He wondered whom they would bring this time. For seven years he had now been here, and often, far too often, had they brought just another poor elf they had managed to capture.

Under the influence of the Tylcarnë drug and often cruelly treated, quite a few of the elves had let go of life and chosen the halls of Mandos.

The others had broken – like him. Oh yes, he had been a hard one to break. Though normally of a kind and serene spirit, he loved his freedom and had fought for it. But in the end, after two years, they had won. They had broken him.

Since then he had hardly left this house, serving his captors and caring for all the other elves they caught.

He looked up at the two men sitting at a table nearby and discussing. They simply ignored him. He always had a relatively easy time when most of the men were gone, but the time afterwards, when they had brought another captive, was hard.

The sound of the horses arriving interrupted his thoughts and he got to his feet. He went out to look after the horses, as was expected of him, but when he saw the face of the elf the men more or less dragged towards the house, he stopped dead in his tracks.

// No// he thought. // It can't be. Not King Thranduil. //

'Hey! Slave!' one of the men holding their captive shouted. He walked over to them, his eyes fixed on the ground. 'Yes?'

The man slapped him in the face. 'It's "Yes, master",' he said sharply.

Gilfaron kept on looking down. 'Yes, master,' he repeated.

'Care a bit for our friend here. He doesn't seem able to stand on his own.' They grinned and shoved the semi-conscious Elvenking forward. Gilfaron caught him gently and led him towards the house.

For the first time since his captivity, Thranduil felt gentle hands touch and direct him. It was an elf. But what was one of the firstborn doing here?

// What a question// he thought. It was a captive, like him. He let the elf guide him and leaned against him for support, not sure if he'd not collapse any moment now.

Gilfaron cringed inwardly as he took a closer look at the elf he was supporting. None of the elves the men had caught had been in a good shape when they arrived, but scarcely any of them had looked as bad as the king did.

He led Thranduil to his own small room and gently eased him down on the blankets that served him as a bed. The king had closed his eyes and didn't react to anything anymore.

The slave began to clean and bandage the other elf's wounds as well as he could, then sat with his back against the wall and his knees pulled up to his chest, and waited.

Waiting was all he could do now. He was no healer, but he hoped the few skills he had developed in his years as a slave were enough. He didn't want to see another immortal fade under his hands, nor to let him be taken Valar only knew where by his captors. Yet he knew he could prevent neither.

Too often had he been standing outside the door, letting the wind wipe the tears from his face as he mourned the passing of the elf he cradled in his arms. Too often had he embraced a captive for the last time to give him the most probably last feeling of love and protection he would ever get in his life, before the men brought him to what should be his fate.

He always wished he had done more for them, yet he knew he couldn't. He was already giving them everything he had, and he nearly broke completely each time another one of them was gone, one way or the other. He didn't want to lose his king this way.

He didn't want to lose anyone this way anymore.

Thranduil stirred and tried to sit up, but Gilfaron pressed him down again, meaning him to rest for a while.

The elven slave had become skilled in finding out about the strength of a captive. He knew that there was no breaking the King of Mirkwood. He would fight and endure for a long time, yet in the end he could not win.

Thranduil would either escape, or die.

TBC…

Calenlass: This sotry is good. You'll find reviewing for the rest of the chapters, I think. :-) ---- I certainly hope so ;-) Thank you :D

Bunny-bobtail: Great story. full of suspence and details. Very nice!! ---- Glad you think so :-) I always have the feeling I am leaving things out…. Thank you :-)


	9. Escape

A/N: Weeee, a long one… longest of all I wrote so far. Hope you like ;-) Chapter 9: Escape 

'Who are you?'

Gilfaron started. He had not noticed the king was awake. For a short moment his gaze turned to the wooden letters lying in the corner of the room, but he decided against them, as always. Instead he took Thranduil's hand in his and gently began to write on the king's palm with his finger.

- I eneth nîn Gilfaron, - /my name is Gilfaron/ he wrote and added after a pause - Im mûl - / I am a slave. /

Thranduil nodded in understanding. A slave – just like he was meant to be.

When he sat up, with Gilfaron's help, he noticed for the first time that his hands weren't bound anymore. He turned to the other elf questioningly.

- Nin daphannar haeri i raph. - / They allowed me to take the rope off. /

'Hannon le Gilfaron,' Thranduil said with a smile. He was pretty sure that it had taken the slave some time to get that permission.

Gilfaron just laid his hand on the king's in response. A bitter smile crept across his lips. When he had been but a very small elfling he had admired the king and had always wished to speak with him one day. But he'd never have imagined it to happen like this.

Considering what it meant for Thranduil, he now rather wished he'd never met him, and that the king was still safe in Mirkwood, but it wasn't meant to be.

He sighed and bit his lip. He had to do something. Anything.

He took up the king's hand again. - Boe dregad lîn. - / You must flee. /

'Naman?' / How/ Thranduil asked. He saw no way he could possibly escape. 'Ú-lerthon maetho.' / I cannot fight. / He hated to admit that, but it was true. How could he find his combatants without his senses? And even if he escaped them, where could he go?

- Iuitho dendil lîn. - / Use your feeling/ was Gilfaron's short answer.

Gilfaron knew now what he could do. Thranduil was a fighter, more than any other of the captives had been. If anyone was able to escape from this place, it was him. But he had to be able to fight, without his senses.

And that, Gilfaron could teach him.

The elven slave was just glad the men always gave him around a day alone with the captives, so that he could see to their wounds and they could rest for a while. This time they were going to need all the time they could get.

'Tendil nîn?' / My feeling/ the king asked, slightly confused. Gilfaron took his other hand, well aware that after a while of communicating like this, the hand would become too numb to make out letters.

- Pedo nîn mas im. - / Tell me where I am/ he simply wrote.

At first Thranduil did not understand, but when he felt Gilfaron stand up and move around, he knew what the other elf wanted. He remained sitting, leaned against the wall, and concentrated, trying to find the other elf. It proved to be rather easy at a small distance.

'You are over there,' he pointed out a direction, 'about three feet away.' It was almost like a sixth sense, being able to feel another's presence near him.

Gilfaron smiled. That was good. With a little practice Thranduil would be able to make out a lot of his surroundings. He moved closer to the sitting Elvenking.

'Directly beside me, on the left,' Thranduil said immediately.

The other elf nodded in approval. Now it was time to try something else. He lifted his hand and made a move as if trying to hit the king. Thranduil felt the blow coming and easily blocked it with his arm.

Gilfaron's face lit up. That was indeed very good. He knelt down beside the king and took his hand once more.

- That was very good, - he wrote. - How do you feel? Can you stand? -

Thranduil nodded. Moving was still painful, but Gilfaron's treatment of the wounds and the rest he'd had had helped him a lot. With the other elf's help, he got to his feet, but had to lean against the wall not to find himself on the floor again, as sudden dizziness overcame him.

Gilfaron's brow furrowed in concern as he noticed the difficulties the king had to remain standing. - Perhaps you should- he began to write, but Thranduil pulled his hand away.

'I will not lie down again,' he said firmly, knowing what the other wanted. 'If I am to learn something from you,' he then continued more softly, 'I have to do so now. We do not know how much time we have.'

- All right, - Gilfaron agreed, knowing the king was right. There was not much time.

So they spent it with training Thranduil's remaining sense. Gilfaron walked around in the small room and Thranduil tried to find him. Every now and then, the slave faked an attack on the king, and Thranduil either blocked or dodged it. With time, Gilfaron made his moves less predictable and less obvious, trying to improve the elf lord's skills.

When after a while, due to Thranduil's exhaustion, things began to get only worse instead of better, Gilfaron decided it had to be enough. Thranduil had to rest.

He led the Elvenking back to his makeshift bed. 'What about you?' Thranduil asked, once the dizziness in his head had passed after lying down. 'Will you not sleep?' He had noticed the other elf gave no sign of doing likewise.

- No, - Gilfaron replied. – I will keep watch. –

// Watch for what// Thranduil wondered, but before he could ask, he had already drifted away into an exhausted sleep.

Gilfaron did not sleep. He stayed awake, a lone sentry for the elven king. He didn't know what time of day it was, as the small room had no window, nor how much time they had left. All he knew was that at any time the men could come in and he had to be awake at that moment.

Sometimes, when they were in a good temper, he managed to handle out a bit more time of rest for the more seriously injured captives, and he would try to do that for his liege, too. Thranduil needed it.

Of course, if they were in a bad temper, they would punish him for being so bold. But that was a risk he would have to take.

Beside him, Thranduil stirred uneasily in his sleep. With increasing concern, Gilfaron noticed that he slept with his eyes closed; he seemed to be far more exhausted than he was letting on.

He also seemed to be caught in a nightmare. He shifted in his sleep, his lips moving as if he wanted to speak; sometimes he even did. His face looked troubled, even frightened, and sweat began to form on his forehead.

Gilfaron moved closer to him from where he was sitting. He hadn't dared lie down; he was sure he would immediately fall asleep, as he had hardly slept the last week. The men had given him as much work as they could find– most of it unnecessary – to keep him out of their way. He fought off his weariness as best he could; there were things that mattered more than sleep at the moment.

The slave tried to place a soothing hand on Thranduil's shoulder, but the elf lord winced at the touch and pulled away. Gilfaron shook his head sadly. What the king had gone through to react like this he could and would not guess. He tried again more carefully to touch him. This time the other elf did not flinch, though he remained tense.

Gilfaron wished Thranduil could hear him. It would be much easier to calm him then. But as it was, he could only stroke his liege's shoulder gently, hoping that it would soothe him, as he didn't want to wake him.

It helped. Thranduil relaxed, though only slightly at first, and the fear disappeared out of his features. Gilfaron moved closer to him to offer him some comfort, and smiled when the king rested his head against him. He shifted himself into a more comfortable position, closing his eyes for a moment as he realized how tired he really was.

// Must stay… awake… // was his last thought before his weariness got the better of him and his eyes glazed over in sleep.

When Thranduil woke again he found himself lying with his head practically in Gilfaron's lap, the other elf's hand resting on his shoulder. Gilfaron did not move; his regular breathing told Thranduil he was asleep. The king vaguely remembered having had a nightmare and guessed that Gilfaron had tried to calm him.

// He could be such a good healer// Thranduil thought sadly. The slave's hands had something soothing about them, and even with the few healing things the men let him use he managed to ease the pain greatly. From what Thranduil could tell, Gilfaron was a kind, gentle being. He did not deserve to live like this. //He should be free// he thought.

But he could not help him. He couldn't even help himself, and he hated being helpless.

// So this is what has become of the great king of Mirkwood// he thought bitterly. // But I will never, ever give up fighting//

Suddenly he felt the floor trembling. The slavers were coming. He forced himself to sit up despite the pain every movement caused, and shook Gilfaron.

'Gilfaron, echuio! Wake up!'

The slave started when he realized that he had fallen asleep and chided himself for being so careless. He was glad his liege had woken him.

Hearing the men coming, he got up, at the same time meaning for Thranduil to lie down again.

// Valar// he prayed inwardly// please let them be in a good mood. //

The moment the door flew open, he knew the Valar had not been listening. There stood Tôrach, the head slaver; three others were accompanying him. They looked angry; Gilfaron assumed they had had a row again. They were always in a particularly bad temper when they had, and it happened often.

'Slave!' Tôrach shouted at him. 'Bring him out here, now!'

Gilfaron stepped in front of him, eyes fixed on the ground. Looking his 'masters' in the eyes was called 'disrespect' and a punishable offence.

'He should not get up yet, master,' he said quietly, but his soft voice only angered the man more. 'He-' Before he could finish the sentence, Tôrach hit him in the face, sending him to his hands and knees.

'Never question my decisions,' he hissed angrily. 'Now get up and bring him along before we do it ourselves!'

Gilfaron obeyed. He knew he'd better not cause any difficulties now. It would only make things worse for the both of them.

Thranduil meanwhile tried to follow the happenings. He could only guess one of them had struck Gilfaron and sent him down, for whatever reason. The slavers were angry, he felt that, and for them, that was reason enough.

He had experienced that himself, in a rather painful way.

He could feel Gilfaron kneel down beside him and signal him to get up. He did as he was told, but once again had to lean against the wall to keep his balance.

Gilfaron noticed it with a frown. // It should have become at least a bit better by now// he thought worriedly.

He offered Thranduil support and the king accepted it, pushing his pride away for the time. He had better not let the men know how much strength he had left. Truth being told, he wasn't even sure about it himself.

He let himself be led out of the room, wondering what would happen now.

Gilfaron knew. They would let him work hard for a time, testing his strength and stamina, to see how much he could do and whether he obeyed, and – Gilfaron gritted his teeth in anger at the thought – how much he was worth. It was the same every time.

There were three men standing at the door, ready to go out. 'Now tell your new friend he's going with us,' one of them said to him, a nasty tone in his voice. Gilfaron recognized him to be Kar, the one who was in charge when Tôrach was out hunting elves.

Gilfaron took Thranduil's hand. – They will take you out to work now, - he wrote. He hoped his king understood this could be his only chance of escape.

Thranduil did. 'Man gwannd?' / How many/ he asked, not loud enough for the men to hear. They could become suspicious if they heard him speaking in his own tongue.

Gilfaron squeezed his hand three times, and then wrote - heithol -. Three men, bearing axes. That sounded difficult. But one other thought still troubled him.

'Mal ech…' / But you/ he began, but Gilfaron cut him off, squeezing his hand two times. That meant no. Thranduil could not help him; he had to stay.

The king wanted to say something, but Gilfaron took his hand again.

- Drego! - / Flee/ he wrote and added after a pause – Heren lin. - / Good luck. /

Thranduil understood there was nothing he could do. 'Hannon cen,' he whispered. 'Novaer, mellon nîn.' / Farewell, my friend. /

He slowly walked towards the men that stood waiting at the door. Gilfaron watched as they bound his hands again tightly before him and led him out, shutting the door behind them. He remained just standing there, as the men didn't tell him otherwise, hoping and praying inwardly that Thranduil would escape.

One thought even brought a smile to his lips when he knew no one saw it.

// He called me 'my friend.' //

The slavers led Thranduil on for a long time, where to, he didn't know. He only knew that they were walking north, as he had felt the warmth of the rising sun on his right at the beginning of the walk, and that they were in a forest, as he felt the trees everywhere around him and sometimes tripped over their roots.

After a while they stopped. One of the men took his hands and laid them shortly onto the tree that stood before him, and then placed a heavy thing in them that proved to be an axe. Obviously they wanted him to cut wood for them. But why should he cut down a living and healthy tree? He had noticed enough dead wood lying around that there was no need to cut the living trees.

But they seemed to want him to do exactly that. How they expected him to wield an axe with bound hands, however, was an enigma to him.

// It is worth a try// he thought. But he wouldn't use it against the tree.

// They have to be very self-confident to risk giving a weapon to their captive. //

He positioned himself in front of the tree and pretended to measure its width with his hands still holding the axe, while he in truth tried to localise the men and assess their strength.

One was standing directly beside him; it would be easy to knock him out. The others were standing behind him, a few feet away. With the surprise on his side, he could defeat them too.

He at least had to try.

He gripped the axe tighter and raised it, but instead of cutting the tree as the men expected him to, he turned and brought its handle down on the head of the one next to him. The man immediately collapsed.

// One. //

The reaction from the two others followed immediately. He ducked the first strike and blocked the next with his axe, feeling the movements of his combatants as Gilfaron had taught him. He turned swiftly, aiming for one of them, only to feel metal clashing with metal as the blow was blocked and the axes ensnared. He yanked his weapon free and plunged it deeply into the slaver's side.

// Two. //

When the man went down he turned again to face the last, but the swift turns and movements had made the giddiness in his head rise again. The short distraction was long enough for the slaver to swing his axe at the king's unprotected chest. Thranduil could not dodge the blow; all he could do was try to turn away. He hissed in pain and suppressed a cry when the axe buried itself deeply in his arm.

He tore free from the blade and swung his own at the attacker. He hit, but his opponent did not go down. Instead he struck the king's wounded arm again, making him loosen the grip on his weapon, and then knocked it out of his hands.

He fought to ignore the pain and kicked the man hard, sending him to his knees in pain.

// Three. //

He turned and fled northward. He had no idea how long it would take the slavers to recover enough to go searching for him again. He didn't even know whether all of them still lived. But at least they were out of action for some time.

On and on ran the elf, soon leaving the small forest behind. He knew it was dangerous to go out into the open, but it was even more dangerous to linger in that forest. It was still far too near to them.

Every now and then he stumbled on the uneven ground and fell, but forced himself to get up again and run on. Every inch of his body ached and the blood loss made him feel even worse.

Thranduil's strength was fading fast; his perception of the surroundings grew fainter every moment. He didn't know where he was going anymore; he just tried to keep up the general direction and to get as far as possible, not knowing how long his feet would still bear him.

He stumbled again and fell, but this time did not rise again. He felt weak and drained. He did not find the strength to go on, yet he knew he had to seek at least the shelter of a tree before he could allow himself to rest.

// Come on, only a bit further// he pushed himself.

Slowly and shakily, he got to his feet and went on, though no longer running. Shelter was rare where he was; few things were growing in this land. But every now and then he had noticed a single tree near him before, and he hoped to find another one.

He let his thoughts wander to distract himself from the pain and his exhaustion, and they turned to those that had made him hold on and still did; those that were his reasons to fight. They surely would not want him to give in now.

He thought of Amdir, the gentle and protective horse; he really hoped they would meet again.

Of Legolas, his beloved son, he wished he wouldn't be out seeking him, as he knew Legolas was. Too great was the risk for him to be captured too.

// Ion nîn… please be safe// he wished silently.

And he thought of Gilfaron, the kind-hearted elf. Only now did Thranduil realize what danger Gilfaron had brought himself into by helping him to escape. The slavers would surely blame him for Thranduil's flight. And what that meant for him…

// I will get him out of there, as soon as possible// he vowed to himself. But for the time being, he could only hope and pray that would not be too late.

'SLAVE!' Gilfaron cringed involuntarily at Tôrach's shout. Mere seconds later the man burst into his room, followed by five others that were no less enraged. Gilfaron could easily tell what had happened and he was glad for it, though he didn't show any sign of the relief he felt.

'He escaped!' Tôrach roared. 'He killed one of my men and injured two others! And you have helped him! I know you have!' Gilfaron was about to ask how he could possibly have done so, as he hadn't been out of his room, but swallowed the question when he realized any words would be useless. They wouldn't even listen to him in their wrath.

Gilfaron had been well aware that this would happen when his king escaped, yet he hadn't told him. He knew that had Thranduil known, he would never have left him to this.

Gilfaron had often seen the slavers angry, but never like this. Never before had a captive escaped, and he rightly guessed that every single one of the men, save those that were with him now or injured, was out seeking him.

// Please don't let them find him// he begged inwardly.

The elven slave backed against the wall when the six men began closing in on him. From the looks on their faces, he could exactly tell what would happen, but he regretted nothing of what he had done to help Thranduil escape.

Yet he could not prevent the icy grip of fear taking hold of him as the men came nearer. He had been beaten by them before, many times. But this time it was different.

This time Gilfaron knew he would not survive.

TBC

Calenlass: #The poor king. ouch, ouch, ouch. ---- Ouch indeed… but Thran's quite strong ;-) There he goes and just leaves ;-) And all of a sudden he's not the only one having ouchy problems…

Between classes: # This story is excellent! ----- Thank you:D # I know what you mean about having troubles finding time to write at school, but I really appreciate you finding it! I love this story, so keep going! ----- Well, I switched from school to uni this year… doesn't make it better… but I'll keep working on it even if I have to kick myself to it ;-) Hope you keep liking :-)


	10. Reunited

A/N: Now I am slowly but surely at a point where I should start writing again O.o And I'll probably re-write parts of that thing too and re-post it... Or, that is what I would like to do, let's see if RL permits it… and the muses of course.

Chapter 10: Reunited

'Legolas!' Elladan excitedly called to the Mirkwood prince, who rode some way behind him. 'I think we have found them!' He brought his horse to a halt and waited for the others to ride up beside him, then pointed to a house that stood some distance away. In contrast to the other they had found days ago, this one wasn't empty. There was smoke rising from the chimney, and as far as they could see, this was where the tracks led them.

'Good,' Legolas merely said. Surprised by the tone in his voice Gaerfin looked at his prince's face. Fear for his father stood in Legolas' eyes, but also burning hatred for whoever it was that had captured Thranduil, and a determination to kill them had they in any way hurt him. Gaerfin had never before seen a look like that on Legolas' face and it troubled, even frightened him. But he could understand what the prince felt. He was sure he would have looked very much the same had he found those that had captured his elder brother, years ago.

Legolas suddenly urged his horse forward, interrupting the red-haired elf's thoughts. Gaerfin followed immediately, as did the others. There was no way they would find out something from that distance.

After a while, Legolas halted his horse again and slid off its back, shortly stroking its soft fur. 'We should not ride nearer, lest they see us,' he said. 'I will go and look; you stay here with the horses.' But before he even had a chance to go, Aragorn had got off his mount's back too. 'You won't go anywhere alone, gwador nîn,' he said firmly. 'I believe we've been through this already.'

Legolas just nodded shortly and walked off towards the house. Strider followed him; the others stayed back, never losing sight of the two as they swiftly moved closer to the house, always keeping to the shelter of the shrubbery. The three elves they had left behind were ready to warn them at any sign of danger.

'Down!' Legolas suddenly hissed and the two hid behind a bush, just in time that the men that came out of the door couldn't see them. The two were only a few feet away from the house, far too close for comfort in Aragorn's opinion.

But the men seemed far too occupied with their own problems at the moment to notice that anyone was watching them. 'Go and find him, now!' one of them ordered angrily. 'Never has an elf escaped from here, and that stubborn creature will not be the first! Understand?'

The others just nodded and hurried off to the stables. When the one that had been shouting at them had gone back inside the house and they were alone again, Legolas sat like frozen for a split second, but then got to his feet and ran back to the others, so fast that Strider had severe trouble catching up with him.

'He escaped!' he said breathlessly when they had reached the others. 'We have to find him, quickly, before they do!'

Elrohir lost no time. 'I'm sure he will have turned northward,' he said while Aragorn and Legolas remounted their horses. 'We will have to split up to have a chance to find him. Estel, you come with us, and Gaerfin, you go with Legolas. We will keep eastward, and you two westward. Perhaps we have to split up further when we come nearer to where he might be. I don't know how far he could have got. Anyone that finds tracks or the king himself will motion the others immediately. If we find nothing or hear nothing from the others, we will meet here again at dawn. All right?'

The others just nodded. 'You never cease to amaze me, brother,' Elladan commented as they rode off in search of the king.

For a long time they rode in silence, each group on its own way, all their senses tense, searching for any sign of Thranduil. Night had already fallen when Legolas finally broke the silence.

'He is here somewhere,' he said. 'I am sure.' He slid off his horse's back, motioning Gaerfin to do the same. 'We'd better go on without our friends here,' he said, and patted its mane gently. 'Take care, mellon nîn,' he whispered into its ear before speaking to the other elf again. 'We should split up. You go looking in that direction,' he pointed out one,' and I'll go in the opposite. Be on your guard; we don't know if these men are anywhere around here already.'

Gaerfin nodded and gave his prince an encouraging smile before he left. Now Legolas too moved, his senses still on alert. He did not want to miss anything that could tell him where his father was. He was searching the floor for any possible tracks, when suddenly a soft rustling of leaves near him made him turn around.

There stood Thranduil, his golden hair flowing in the wind, his eyes staring at nothing. Legolas was taken aback by the fear in his father's face. 'Ada?' he asked softly. Thranduil didn't react, nor did the fear in his features fade. 'Ada! It's me, Legolas!' Still no reaction.

Then it hit him. The dream! The voice… what had it said? 'He cannot hear you. He cannot see you. He'll never know you're there.'

Legolas knew, if he walked forward his father would retreat and fall.

But he had to get to him! Slowly he began to walk towards the other elf. It cut his heart to see his father like this. 'Ada…' It was a mere whisper on his lips.

Thranduil seemed to notice someone was approaching him. He backed away, holding his bound hands up in a defensive position.

Legolas froze. Thranduil could not see the precipice he was approaching. He didn't even stop when Legolas did, walking backwards further and further…

Aragorn had said it didn't have to happen. He had said Legolas could change it. But how? What could he do?

He had one chance, and only one. He had to be faster than his father.

He broke into a run. He had to reach the other elf before he could fall.

But he wasn't fast enough. He could do nothing. He could only watch as Thranduil took another step back. His heart stopped as his father fell, screaming.

'Ada! No!' Legolas thrust himself forward and reached out for Thranduil's hand.

Gaerfin looked around. For a short moment he had thought to have heard something near him, but he couldn't find the source of the sound. He was about ready to put it off as a part of his imagination when he perceived a movement in the corner of his eye. He turned, but saw no one. Yet this time he was sure he hadn't just imagined it. Warily he reached for one of his knives, but he never came to pull it from its sheath. The last thing he felt was that something hit him hard on the back of his head, before he fell into darkness.

There was someone. Had they already found him?

Thranduil's last bit of hope faded. He knew he would never manage to escape again. And though he didn't want to admit it, he dreaded the punishment for this attempt.

The being before him slowly began to walk towards him. It was near enough for him to know it was there, yet too far away to know its nature. But the choices were few. Who, except his captors would travel in these lands?

He backed away, holding his bound hands up defensively. He had barely noticed the one before him breaking into a run when suddenly his feet met only air and he fell.

But then he felt a strong hand grab one of his own. He hissed at the pain the sudden weight inflicted on his already injured arm. Surprised, he noticed that the touch of the one that now dragged him up again was comfortingly familiar.

For a while he just lay there, panting, trying to keep his abused body from shivering, unable to find out who had saved him.

He felt him gently brush the hair out of his bruised face. And then he recognized him. How could this ever have taken him so long?

'Ion nîn? Legolas?' Legolas sighed in relief. He had truly dreaded his father would never recognize him. 'Yes, ada. It's me.' If only Thranduil could hear him!

But there was no need for that. Thranduil knew. Slowly and carefully he sat up and pulled his son into a tight embrace. Legolas returned it, careful not to hurt his father more, and thus they remained, only glad to be together again.

Tears threatened to come to Legolas' eyes when he took in his father's bad shape. // They will pay for this// he vowed to himself. // For everything they have done to him//

Suddenly Thranduil tensed. 'Ego!' / Go/ he whispered. 'Ti thúlar! Ego!' / They are coming! Go!/ But Legolas merely shook his head, not letting go off his father. He wouldn't leave him to them again. He just couldn't do it.

'How touching.' Only Legolas could hear the icy voice behind him, but there was no doubt it belonged to the owner of the sword he suddenly felt at his throat. 'Get up, elf.'

TBC

Calenlass: ---- Yeas!! He escaped! But I feel sorry for Gilfaron. Winces and sympathy. ----- Don't celebrate too much just yet… Bad me, I know ;-p Hm, I'll see what to do about Gil :-P Huge thanks for the constant reviews:-)


	11. Live to Help

A/N: Here goes… I'm still alive, who'd have guessed? I actually was waiting for a review, but I never got the alert I had one… baaad :( Sorry everyone… Oh dear, my writing style has changed so much, makes me want to re-write the entire thing...

Chapter 11: Live to help

'Leave him now,' the head slaver ordered coldly. 'I want to finish him off myself.' Reluctantly the men stepped away from the still form of the elf they had been beating. Gilfaron lay on the floor, his eyes closed, and didn't react when Tôrach kicked him. The man bent over him and slowly closed his hands around the elf's pale throat. 'And you have been such a good slave over all the years,' he said. 'What a waste.'

Gilfaron half-opened his eyes and stared at him blankly. He didn't even try to struggle when Tôrach tightened his grip, slowly cutting off his airway. He didn't have the strength to fight anymore, neither physically nor mentally.

Black spots began to swim before his eyes as his lungs screamed for air they could not get; yet he still did not move. He merely closed his eyes, so that he would not have to see the cruel, sadistic smile of the man that was strangling him.

He was on the verge of losing consciousness when he heard one of the slavers call out to Tôrach. 'We've caught him again! And two others too!'

Tôrach released Gilfaron's throat and the elf rolled to his side, gasping for air. 'Let's leave this one now,' he said. 'We might still need him. He'll survive.' He kicked the beaten slave one last time, before turning and following the others out of the room.

// Oh, no// Gilfaron thought when he heard the door slam shut behind them.

// Valar, no//

------------------------------------

Gilfaron did not know how much time had passed in which he had just lain there, trying to calm his breathing, before he sat up and leaned against the wall.

It just couldn't be true. They had not only recaptured the king, but also taken two other elves. That it was actually their capture that had saved his life made Gilfaron feel guilty, although he knew he could have changed nothing.

Not long ago he had seen no more reason to hold on to that life, but now…. Ever since he had been a slave, all that had kept him alive had been his will to help the other captives. If not for that, he would have faded long ago. And now there were three that would need his help badly. And as he owed them his life, he would gladly risk it for them again.

He would have to look after them now. He was sure Thranduil's wounds would need treatment, and, knowing his captors, the other two were most likely injured as well.

He hardly spent a thought on his own injuries. They hurt, of course; breathing was still extremely painful and would be for some time. But that didn't matter now. They would heal with time, he told himself.

Gilfaron looked up when the door opened and a man stepped in. 'Get up and have a look at our new friends,' he just said. 'They're down in the Dungeon.'

He watched as Gilfaron slowly and shakily got to his feet, still having trouble breathing. 'Hurts, eh?' he commented. 'Serves you right.' He walked out and closed the door again.

Gilfaron remained standing there for a while, trying to gather his strength, before he too left the room and went down to the Dungeon.

The Dungeon was a small stone room deep below the house, where the captives stayed when they were either uninjured or very hard to break; it hardly happened that both were the case. The latter would be the reason why Thranduil was there, too.

He opened the heavy door and stepped into the room. The three captives' hands were held over their heads by manacles hanging from the ceiling, so high, that their feet barely touched the floor. // Even Thranduil// Gilfaron thought. He would have to get him down there as soon as possible; this wasn't doing any good for the king's injuries.

The two new captives were more or less hidden from Gilfaron's sight as they were hanging behind the king, but he paid them no heed for the moment and stepped closer to Thranduil. The king was only semi-conscious again. There was a makeshift bandage around his right arm that was stained with dry blood. // At least they did bandage it// he thought grimly.

He gently laid a hand on the king's shoulder, wondering whether he would recognize him. 'Gilfaron?' Thranduil asked weakly. 'Are you all right, mellon nîn?' Gilfaron squeezed his shoulder lightly once. /Yes. /

Thranduil gave a relieved sigh. 'Please see if my son is all right,' he said softly. Gilfaron's eyes widened in shock. 'Prince Legolas?'

'Yes, I am here.'

Gilfaron turned. The second captive was indeed the prince of Mirkwood. He was watching the elven slave intently, not yet sure what to make of him. 'And you are…?' It was a question.

'My name is Gilfaron, my Lord,' he said. 'I am a slave; I am here to see to your injuries.'

Legolas' hard gaze softened a bit when he took in the other elf's bad shape. 'You have been beaten,' he stated quietly. Gilfaron nodded and looked down; he did not want to speak about it to the prince.

Noticing this, Legolas decided to drop the subject, not wishing to go further into it. He still wasn't sure whether or not to trust the other elf, but his father had called him his friend, and it was hard to gain Thranduil's trust so fast. He would trust his father's judgement of Gilfaron for the time being.

'I am unhurt,' he told the other elf. He was sure he would not be if things had been but a bit different. He would have put up a fight, if not for his father, who was in no shape to fight, and for the fact that the men had suddenly brought Gaerfin too, unconscious, and threatened to kill him if they wouldn't surrender. So Legolas had, not daring to risk the lives of the two others.

'You had better look after him,' he now said, not unkindly, nodding in Gaerfin's direction. 'He is still unconscious.'

Gilfaron nodded obediently and turned to the third captive; he hadn't yet taken the time to even look at him. But when he now saw the face of the red-haired elf, he stopped dead in his tracks. If his heart had skipped a beat in shock when he had seen the prince, it now stopped completely.

'Valar, please, no,' he whispered. 'Not my little brother!'

TBC

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Calenlass: ---- AH! a cliffie! oh well...it just adds to the suspense. :-) ---- Well now, who would I be not to use the opportunity for a cliffie? Sorry I am so very late… And huge thanks to you for keeping up the reviews :)


	12. To the Lion's Den

A/N: There I am again, gone so long that I don't remember this place's little formatting tricks. Well, I'll figure I guess. This is short, so next one should be up tomorrow or Monday.

Chapter 12: To the Lion's Den

The sun stood high in the sky already. Elladan and Elrohir were standing in the shade of a tree beside their horses, while Aragorn was pacing restlessly. 'Just where could they be?' he mumbled, more to himself than to the twins. 'They should have been here hours ago.'

Elrohir sighed. 'I can think of two possibilities,' he said darkly. 'And neither of them makes me very happy.'

Elladan nodded. They all knew what his brother meant. 'We've been waiting long enough now,' he said impatiently. 'We have to go find them, and soon!'

The other two agreed quietly and mounted their horses. Elladan was right. If their friends were in trouble, of which the three were pretty sure they were, they'd better not linger any longer.

They rode off in the direction Legolas and Gaerfin had taken the day before, once again searching their surroundings with all their senses. Every now and then they whistled, imitating the cry of a bird as a signal often used by elven warriors. But they heard no answer.

It had already begun to get dark when finally they heard something. 'Horses,' Elrohir whispered. 'Two horses, and they're coming nearer.'

'Maybe it's them,' his twin gave back quietly. He whistled again, but there still was no answer.

'Apparently not,' Aragorn stated and slowly aimed an arrow in the direction where the hoof beats were coming from. His brothers did the same, and quietly they waited for whom they would face.

But when the first of the horses came into sight, they immediately lowered their weapons.

'Ruinóriel!' Aragorn called in surprise. It was Legolas' grey mare, and she was riderless. Gaerfin's roan horse followed close behind, he too bearing no rider.

Elrohir slid off his own mount and slowly walked towards the two horses, speaking softly to them. Ruinóriel nickered nervously, but let herself be soothed by the elf's quiet voice.

After a while Elrohir turned to his brothers. 'They're gone,' he said softly. 'They left their horses behind, but they didn't return. The men have taken them with them.'

Aragorn buried his face in his hands. 'Oh, no,' he moaned. 'Not again.' Valar knew what they were doing to them at that place.

'What can we do now?' Elrohir asked, looking at his brothers, still stroking the two horses.

'We have to get message to Rivendell or Mirkwood,' Elladan said. 'Now that we know where they are, we have to call for help. We won't be able to help our friends on our own.'

'But that would take more than two weeks! We don't have the time, muindor nîn!'

'Do you have a better idea, Elrohir? We can't get them out there alone.'

'No, we can't indeed,' Aragorn said calmly. 'But perhaps I can try to keep those men from doing stupid things while you go to get help.' The twins stared at him.

'What-' Elladan began, but then understood his human brother's intention. 'Oh no, you won't go there, too!'

'That's the best way of keeping things under control that we have,' Aragorn stated. 'They'll believe I'm one of them. I'll be alright, muindyr nîn.'

Elladan shook his head. 'You can't go there alone, Estel. I'll come with you.'

'No you won't! Elladan, you're an elf!'

'I'm only three-quarters elven. And they don't have to know, do they? One of us is enough to call for help.'

'But…' Elrohir began.

'No buts, muindor,' Elladan said. 'You'll go to get help for us.'

Elrohir and Aragorn both sighed. 'Alright,' the human finally said. 'Elrohir, you will ride to Rivendell to call for help. And Elladan, you can come with me, but then you'll do as I say.'

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'I what?'

Aragorn stifled a laugh at the look on his brother's face. 'You look much too neat,' he repeated with a barely concealed grin. The glare Elladan gave him made him laugh despite the gravity of the situation.

Elrohir had left them a short while ago and taken the horses with them, as Aragorn had said that horses without saddles and reins would be suspicious. They wouldn't need them anyway.

Now Aragorn was trying to make his brother look at least a little more human. He had, after a while of searching, found a piece of cloth in his pack that Elladan now wore as a headband to conceal his pointed ears.

'We have to do something about your hair,' Aragorn explained now, still grinning lightly. 'No average human of their sort would wear it bound so tidily.'

Elladan shrugged. 'Fine. What do you want me to change?'

'First, undo those braids,' Aragorn advised. While his brother obeyed, he stepped behind him and began to work on his hair.

'What exactly are you doing there, Estel?' Elladan asked suspiciously.

'Oh, I'm just rearranging your hair style a little bit,' came the slightly amused answer.

'Estel, this is not funny.' Aragorn chuckled and finished with what he was doing. Then he stepped before his brother and admired his work. 'Much better, brother,' he said, still looking quite amused. 'Now you look like you hadn't even seen a hairbrush in years.'

Elladan rolled his eyes. 'Alright then,' he said resignedly. 'Anything else?'

'Indeed.' Aragorn took off his leather overcoat and handed it to his brother. 'Wear this. And now some basic rules: You leave the speaking to me. And if someone addresses you as 'youth' don't do anything stupid. You look like one after all. And watch what you're doing,' he finished.

'Estel, there's no need to fuss like that. I can think on my own, you know.' He put on the overcoat and wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Aragorn sighed. 'It doesn't smell that bad, you know. By the way, you should do something about your glow. Those men will get just a little suspicious when their new companion looks like an oversized firefly in the dark.' He grinned and ducked the light blow Elladan aimed at his head. Straightening up again, he cast a last scrutinizing glance at his brother and gave a satisfied nod.

'Perfect,' he said. 'Let's go.'

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TBC… you know how it goes.


	13. A long lost Brother

A/N: I do have a feeling my chapters were longer before… I might also be mistaken. Ah well.

Chapter 13: A long-lost brother

Gilfaron didn't notice the surprised look Legolas gave him, nor did he feel the pain of his injuries any more. All that he knew now was that his brother was there, his beloved little brother, and that he would give everything in Arda to get him away from this place, out of the reach of those cruel slavers.

So much had he wished to see Gaerfin again, but not like this. Not in this horrible place.

// Valar, why// he thought. Why did it have to come so far? His king, his prince, and now even his brother?

He slowly stepped forward and touched his brother's face with a shaking hand, as if he was afraid he could suddenly disappear again.

"Gaerfin…" he whispered hoarsely.

Gaerfin blinked as consciousness reluctantly returned. For a moment he had thought to hear someone say his name, but he couldn't tell for sure. His head ached severely, and so did his arms and shoulders. Why was he bound like this? What had happened? And was there someone touching his face? He blinked again, trying to open his eyes.

Gilfaron saw that his brother was waking and drew back his hand. "Gaerfin?"

There it was again. There was really someone calling him, and the voice seemed oddly familiar, but – no. That had to be his imagination playing tricks on him. Could this ever be true? Oh, how he wished it were….

He slowly opened his eyes and found himself looking at a well-known face. Gilfaron's eyes were filled with tears and deep sorrow stood in them, but he was there, really there, right before him.

Finally, after seven years, he had found his brother.

'Gilfaron! Cuiach!' / You're alive/ He'd have rushed forward and embraced Gilfaron if not for the manacles that held him back. But then his brother already stepped forward and hugged him tightly, as if never to let go again.

'I am, little brother,' he said into his ear. 'How I missed you.'

'I missed you too,' Gaerfin whispered back. Neither of the two cared about anything around them, not about Legolas, who was watching them, nor about the slavers that could come at any moment. They only existed for each other, now that they were finally reunited.

'Are you all right, muindor nîn?' Gilfaron asked quietly. Gaerfin frowned when he noticed how hard it was for his brother to speak, but he was too tired to even realize that Gilfaron spoke in the Common Tongue. 'I am,' he replied not entirely truthful, 'but you? You sound-'

'How very nice,' a voice from the door interrupted them. The elves started. None of them had heard the men come in. Gilfaron let go of his brother and wheeled around towards the speaker.

'Seems like we've brought two friends together again, doesn't it?' the man, it was Tôrach, said, walking over to the two brothers. 'How wonderful.' His voice was full of sarcasm.

He took Gaerfin's chin in his hand and forced the captive being to look at him. 'So,' he said coldly. 'Maybe your presence could help our slave to a bit more obedience than he showed us lately.'

Gilfaron only barely resisted the urge to attack the man from behind. He knew it was of no use. Instead he fixed his eyes on the ground, like he always did when the slavers were around, and waited.

Tôrach ignored him. He left Gaerfin alone and turned to Legolas. The prince's eyes were full of burning hatred. 'I see we will have some work with you,' the slaver observed. He lowered his voice. 'I tell you, elf,' he said in a cold and menacing tone, 'always remember who will bear the consequences of your disobedience.' He gave a meaningful nod in Thranduil's direction. 'Don't try anything stupid.'

Legolas gritted his teeth and held back anything he could have said. He would not do or say anything to endanger his father even more.

Tôrach left him and walked towards Thranduil. He grinned at his fellow slavers who had remained standing in the doorway all the time. 'What would you say? Do you think he remembers us?'

He touched the king's cheek only lightly, but Thranduil immediately jerked away. The men laughed. 'Why, I think he does,' Tôrach said, still grinning nastily.

'Tôrach!' A shout from the corridor made the man turn away from his captive. 'What is it?' he grunted ungraciously, annoyed about the disturbance.

'There are two men coming towards the house,' the man that had called reported, coming into the cell. It was Antor, a rather young man with a scruffy-looking blond beard, who'd only been with the slavers for about half a year. 'They seem to want to pay us a visit.'

'What do you think they want here?' another one asked.

Antor shrugged. 'I've got no idea. I didn't exactly ask them, you know.'

'Let's go up and greet them,' Tôrach grumbled. 'I'm very interested in what they have to tell us.' He turned to Gilfaron. 'Slave!' he called. 'You come with us. We'll leave our new friends here some time to accustom themselves to their new home.' He grinned at the captives, not caring about the hateful glares he received in return. 'You'd better do. You will stay here for quite a while. Come on, slave,' he added, speaking to Gilfaron once more.

The elf pointed at Thranduil. 'We can't leave him like this,' he said in the quiet tone he always used when speaking to them. 'It could kill him.'

Tôrach shrugged it off. 'He won't die that soon. He's tough. Besides this will hopefully make him remember that he won't make things better for himself with futile escape attempts.'

'But-' Gilfaron began but the head slaver quickly covered the small distance between them and slapped him in the face. 'Never object,' he said sharply.

Gilfaron continued looking down. 'Yes, master.'

Gaerfin had watched the scene with gritted teeth. It hurt him to see the change the time as a slave had caused in his once so free-spirited brother. He wished so much to speak to him, to comfort him, to see what was still left of the Gilfaron he had known. But he could only watch him walking out of the cell now, eyes downcast, not even daring to turn around to look at him again before he went. 'Im go gen, muindor.' / I'm with you, brother/ he whispered to comfort his brother at least a bit. It was all he could do.

Gilfaron heard it and eventually turned, his cheeks still wet from his tears, giving Gaerfin a thankful smile before walking out of the cell.

Tôrach followed him, but before walking out, he shortly turned to the men that were still in the cell. 'Give them the right atmosphere for thinking about their situation,' he ordered. The meaning of this order was clear to the men, and to Gilfaron as well. He shuddered involuntarily. Having to hang in there for hours in the dark….

Obeying the command, the men took all of the torches that were illuminating the small room from the iron holders in the walls and carried them out with them.

The cell door closed with a bang, leaving the elves in total darkness.

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TBC… soon I hope.


	14. Rescue's on the Way

A/N: Formatting again. I'm sorry if I messed it up in the previous chapters; I might have forgotten some of the tricks.

Chapter 14: Rescue's on the way

'Look, we even get a greeting committee,' Aragorn commented as they strode towards the house. 'How nice. That saves us the effort of knocking.'

Elladan glanced nervously at the three men that had just emerged from the house. 'Have you got any idea how to approach them, Estel?' he whispered without turning his head.

'Not really,' Aragorn had to admit.

'What?'

'I'll make up something,' Aragorn quickly assured his brother. 'Trust me.' He thought for a short while. 'I am pretty certain that we're dealing with a band of slavers here. I hope to make them believe that we're working in the same "profession".'

'We're walking on extremely thin ice there, Estel.'

'I know. Better keep your sword loose in its sheath, muindor nîn, just in case things come down on us.'

Elladan nodded and they walked the short rest of the way in silence. When they were but a few feet away from the house, one of the men standing in the doorway called out to them.

'Who are you, and what brings you here?' he asked.

Aragorn stepped a bit nearer.

'Good evenin', neighbor. We's seen yer men passin' by some days ago an' we wuz jist a-thinkin' we'd ask iffn y'd p'rhaps take two more men into that there group o'yers.'

Elladan nearly bit his tongue trying to keep a straight face. Where, in the name of the Valar, had his brother gotten that from?

'And what makes you think we would?' the man asked, sounding dubious, but the two could see he was at least mildly interested.

Aragorn shrugged. 'Nothin' in fact. We's jist thought we'd give it a try, y'know.'

The man laughed. 'I like you,' he stated. 'Perhaps we've even got a place for you. I lost one of my men only recently.' He paused shortly. 'What's your name and what sort of work did you plan to do when staying with my men?'

Aragorn shrugged yet again. 'We'll do any kinda work we kin find. I'm Strider, an' m'friend here, kinda silent one, 's named Atan.'

'Why doesn't he speak?' one of the other men asked suspiciously.

'Don't rightly know,' Strider confessed. 'Mebbe he jist don't want to. Mebbe he cain't. He never talked nothin' in the five years I knows 'im.' He grinned. 'Kinda good thang is, he don't stort no stupid discussions.'

The men grinned as well. 'Well then, Strider,' the one who had first spoken said. 'You said you would do all kinds of work? Where are you most skilled?'

'Ez I wuz a-sayin', we do everythin', but we're good with knives an' all sortsa shorp thangs.'

'Very good,' the man said. 'But before you agree to stay you have to know that once you are one of my men, you'll stay with my men unless I give you leave.' He grinned. 'Which seldom happens. At least not in the usual way.'

'Well,' Strider grinned back at the man, though he didn't feel like grinning at all, 'like that we ain't got the trouble o'tryin' t'find a new place t'stay an' such.'

Elladan noticed with relief that the men weren't half as wary as he had expected. With his simple and open behaviour, Aragorn had talked them into trusting the two at least a bit.

The elf could but admire his brother. He knew he would never have been able to conceal his true feelings towards the men enough to talk to them in such an open and friendly way. He was glad he wouldn't have to talk, since he wasn't entirely sure he could hold back from saying what he really thought, which could turn out disastrous for Estel and him in their current situation. So he contented himself with watching the amazing skill his brother showed in talking people into trusting him.

The man that had spoken to them cast another scrutinizing glance at the two, then nodded.

'Agreed,' he said. 'If you accept the conditions, I'll take you in.' He signalled to the two to follow him into the house.

'Come, I'll introduce you to my men.'

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Elrohir rode in a swift trot, crossing the open lands at a quick and steady pace; the four now riderless horses of his companions followed close behind. There was a forest not far ahead and the elf wanted to reach it as soon as possible to get out of the open. He knew riding through the woods would slow him down, but he was also aware that there could very well be some of the slavers around and he didn't want to risk being found, and perhaps captured as well. It would destroy all hope for help from the outside for his captive friends.

Only a little later he found his fears confirmed as an arrow flew past him, missing him by inches. He turned his head and cursed silently. There were four men riding some ways behind him, all armed with bows, and they were gaining on him fast. There was no doubt they wanted to either catch or kill him, and neither of those two options appealed to him very much.

Ducking another arrow Elrohir looked forward again. The forest was near; he had to reach it before they managed to shoot him off the horse.

'Noro lim!' he called to the horses. 'Boe ammen esgal e ngelaidh!' / Run fast! We need the cover of the trees/

The horses darted forward at a gallop. Elrohir held tightly onto Fuintor's mane, rather lying than sitting on his black steed's back as he tried to dodge the now numerous arrows the men fired at him.

Every now and then he turned, cursing under his breath as he saw them drawing nearer and nearer. He just couldn't let himself be caught now!

Finally he rode into the forest, disappearing out of sight of his pursuers at least for a while. But he knew that wouldn't last for long. They would try to chase him down even between the trees. He somehow had to trick them into giving up, but how?

One idea occurred to him, but it would need all of his skill, and the help of all five horses. He gently brought Fuintor to a halt.

'Thelal nin tharo?' he asked the horses quietly. / Will you help me/ They neighed and snorted in agreement. 'Lasto,' he said. 'Boe din tegi na vist. Din rugo. Pado vin nyrn, a caro únad ethin faro len anann. Ae ú-ben len ruitha, pado na Anor.' /Listen. We have to delude them. Confuse them. Go labyrinthine ways, and make it impossible for them to chase you for a long time. If no one follows you, walk towards the sun. /

He shortly stroked each horse's head. 'Hannon len, mellyn nîn.' / Thank you, my friends/ he said. 'Ego si.' / Now go. /

The horses galloped off in different directions almost in the same moment that the men broke into the forest.

'Follow him!' one of them shouted. 'Don't care for the horses!'

Elrohir had expected that. He led them this way and that in full gallop every now and then ducking a low branch, disappearing between the trees just to turn up somewhere else mere moments later, just in sight of his pursuers.

He hoped that with the time he could shake them off, but the men were not confused that easily. When after a while he turned and saw that they were still behind him, he decided that it was high time to try something else.

He turned sharply to get out of sight and nimbly pulled himself up into a tree. 'Pado lim.' / Go on/ he told Fuintor. 'Tano sa nach ennas, dan ú-dano sa cúlach ú-ben. / Show that you're there, but don't show that you bear no one. /

Hidden between the branches he watched as his horse trotted off before he turned westward to find the others.

Suddenly, after he had gone some ways through the trees, he heard hoof beats coming from behind him. He turned, but he did not, as he had expected, see two of his own horses, but instead two of the men coming towards him.

'There! There he is!' one of them shouted, pointing at him. Elrohir cursed. He had not expected them to split up already. Obviously they had seen that Fuintor carried no rider.

That was not good. The trees around him didn't give much shelter; it was hardly possible to hide in them. He had to reach some that could protect him more.

Turning, he saw them coming closer, getting ready to shoot at him again, and decided to make a dash for it.

'Get down elf, or we'll shoot you out of the trees!' one of them shouted after him as he fled. He ignored him, but he could not ignore the arrows that now came flying towards him. He ducked and dodged them the best he could, but it was not good enough.

Elrohir let out a cry of surprise and pain as an arrow pierced his leg, throwing him off balance. Unable to catch himself he fell, crashing onto the ground right before the men's horses.

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TBC… you know that one.


	15. A Fortunate Encounter

Chapter 15: A fortunate encounter

Legolas breathed deeply, trying to remain calm. In the small cell, illuminated only by the soft glow of the three elves, his old fear of dark, tight places came to surface again and he fought to hold it back.

But it was not only that fear that troubled his mind. What was probably even worse was the fear for his father. He knew how bad Thranduil's injuries were, and that they needed looking after. Being chained like this could make his state even worse. Legolas knew his father was hovering somewhere near the verge of death, and there was nothing he could do. If he at least were able speak to him, comfort him somehow… but there was no way he could.

Legolas knew he had to occupy his thoughts, to keep them away from the walls that seemed to be closing in on him, and from his father, whom he could not help.

He decided to speak to Gaerfin. Perhaps the young elf could need a distraction as well.

'Gaerfin?'

'Yes, my lord?' Gaerfin's voice was trembling slightly; he was still somewhat shocked. Legolas could understand him; he didn't want to imagine how he would feel in the other elf's place.

'Please, Gaerfin, it is Legolas. My and my father's being royalty is better kept secret here,' he said in a low voice, in case someone was standing outside the door, though he didn't really believe it.

'I am sorry, my- Legolas,' the red-haired elf apologized. It just felt strange not to address his prince in the respectful form.

'You need not be, mellon nîn,' Legolas said softly. 'You did nothing wrong.'

Gaerfin nodded quietly, though he was not sure the prince had seen it. His mind was far too occupied to think about it. He was so glad to have finally found his brother, yet he feared for him, as he feared for Thranduil and Legolas – and for himself. Though he tried very hard to banish that part of his fears from his mind, considering it a weakness, Gaerfin was scared.

'I did not know you had a brother.' Legolas soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. He didn't answer for a while, again lost in thought, but then decided it would perhaps do him good to talk. 'He disappeared, seven years ago,' he said quietly.

'Disappeared?' Legolas normally wasn't that inquisitive, but he was sure that talking would help both of them.

'Yes, it was… totally unexpected,' Gaerfin began. 'We've always lived far away from trouble, somewhere in the North, where there never came any other beings than elves, let alone intruders of any kind. But one day… one day Gilfaron went out into the woods with his two friends Nauthlain and Maedir.'

Gaerfin swallowed hard before he continued. 'Only Maedir returned. It is a miracle that he survived. He came to our house in the middle of the night and collapsed on the doorstep, with an arrow in his back. I don't know how he came that far, and I don't think he knows either.'

Gaerfin turned his head to look at Legolas. The prince had been listening quietly and now returned Gaerfin's look, wordlessly encouraging him to go on. The young warrior did, this time looking at Legolas as he spoke.

'We were so scared,' he said quietly, 'scared for Maedir, but also for my brother and Nauthlain, who had not returned at all. The healers doubted that Maedir would live to see the dawn, but he fought and survived. It took him long to recover. I think he felt guilty, because he had not been able to help his friends, though we all tried to convince him that it wasn't his fault. I think he still feels guilty about it.

Anyway, as soon as he could speak again, he told us what had happened. They had been attacked by some figures whose race he could not make out, for they all wore hoods to conceal their faces. The three had been greatly outnumbered and had held no chance of winning that fight.'

Gaerfin's voice faded into a whisper. 'They had taken Gilfaron and Nauthlain away. Maedir only escaped because they thought him dead. Why they did this and who they were he could not tell. But I think I know now.'

The young elf turned his gaze away from Legolas as he finished the tale. 'It was that day I decided to become a warrior. I wanted to find them, and let them pay for everything they had done to my brother and my friends. That day, I swore revenge.'

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All air was forced from Elrohir's lungs as he hit the ground and for moments he could not move. He only managed to turn his head. He couldn't let them see his face… they would recognise his features in Elladan's face when they returned; even if he didn't get captured it would put his brothers into danger even more than they already were.

He heard the men halt their horses and get down to move towards him. // I can't let them get me// he thought, desperately trying to find a way to escape. But his head and body hurt and he felt dizzy, which didn't make it easier to think.

There was only one chance to escape. Elrohir painfully turned onto his stomach, lifted his head and gave a long whistle. He broke off when one of the men brutally seized his shoulder and turned him around. Automatically the elf turned his head so that his hair obscured his face.

'Don't want to look at us, eh?' the man said. 'Too frightened, are you, elf?' Elrohir showed no reaction. The man kicked him hard, making him hiss in pain. Perhaps the fall had done more damage than he had thought. But still he didn't move.

It was when one of the men, angered by his lack of response, wanted to force him to look at them that he finally heard what he had been waiting for since he had sent his whistled call.

There were hoof beats coming towards them, indicating that three horses were coming closer in full gallop. Counting on the element of surprise, Elrohir sprang to his feet, knocking back the man that had tried to see his face. He ran off to where the sound came from, leaving his hunters stunned for a moment. They really had not expected him to get up, let alone to be able to run with the arrow in his leg.

But Elrohir did, and although he was limping badly, trying to put the least possible weight on his injured leg, he managed to reach the horses before the men had any chance of catching up. He pulled himself up onto Fuintor's back and turned to see that the men too, cursing, were mounting their horses again to go after him.

'Noro lim!' he called to the horses and they once again ran off at full speed, resuming their tactic of splitting up, trying to mislead the men. When Elrohir was sure they were behind him again, he turned northwards, riding straightforward this time without any unexpected turns. He wanted to make them believe that this was where he was headed, although he really wanted to leave the wood on the western side to go alongside the borders of Anduin.

At the next possible moment he pulled himself up into the trees again, telling Fuintor to lead them on to the North but to follow him westward as soon as possible. Then he moved through the trees as fast and quietly as he could, this time careful not to be seen. He had his teeth clenched all the time not to give a sound of pain, as his leg protested against the strain he put on it. He nearly sighed in relief when he finally saw Ruinóriel somewhere beneath him. He gave a soft call and slid from the tree onto her back when she came closer.

'Bring me out of here, mellon nîn,' he said softly, holding onto her mane and she galloped off westwards. He hoped that the other four horses managed to confuse the men enough that they could follow him soon without being chased.

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He had been riding hard for a long time now. Fuintor and the others had caught up with him a while ago, having left the men rather disoriented in the forest. By now Elrohir was so exhausted that he could do nothing more than hold onto Ruinóriel's mane and try not to fall. He barely sensed his surroundings anymore. He felt sore and his leg ached terribly.

Suddenly Ruinóriel slowed down and came to a halt. He vaguely perceived other riders around him, though he could not make out who they were and what they were doing. He heard excited voices, but he couldn't make out words.

It was then that his hands began to lose their grip on the horse's mane. He felt himself slide off her back, unable to catch himself, but then there was someone who caught him gently and lowered him to the ground.

He recognized the loving touch immediately and smiled. Now he was safe.

'Mae govannen, ada,' he said weakly. / Well met. /


End file.
